BAD  ADVICE.  *}?* 

^ — 

COMEDY,  IN  THREE  ACTS. 


ADAPTED  FROM  THE  FRENCH. 


By  HORACE  W.  FULLER, 

Author  of  “ False  Pretensions etc. 


TOGETHER,  WITH 


DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  COSTUMES— CAST  OF  THE  CHARACTERS — EN- 
TRANCES AND  EXITS — RELATIVE  POSITIONS  OF  THE  PERFORM- 
ERS ON  THE  STAGE,  AND  THE  WHOLE  OF  THE  STAGE 
BUSINESS. 


NEW  YORK 

THE  DE  WITT  PUBLISHING  HOUSE 
No.  33  Rose  Street. 


Copyright,  1888,  by  A.  T,  B.  Pe  Witt. 


BAD  ADVICE. 


CHARACTERS. 


Edmond  Blandinet. 
Francois  Blandinet. 
Gustave  Aubertin. 
Louis,  Edmond’s  son. 
Albert,  Francois’  son. 
Mizabran,  a bootmaker. 


Joseph.,  a s ?rvanf& 

Second  Boc  hua^er. 
Henrietta.  Ldmo-..a,s  wife, 
Laura,  Aub  duigrn/.-r 

Prudence,  maid  servant. 


TIME  IN  REPRESENTATION—  ABOUT  TWO  HOURS. 


SCENERY. 

ACT  I. — An  elegantly  furnished  room.  Doors  c.,  r.  and  l.  ; a table  set  for  b ;ik- 
fast  c. ; small  table  and  sideboard  l.  ; sofa  r.  ; chairs,  etc. 

ACT  II.— Same  as  Act  I. 

ACT  III. — A room  furnished  as  a library  and  office.  Doors  in  .flat  c.;  also  R.  3 z. 
and  l.  3e.;  library  table  c.;  desk  r.  ; bookcase  l.  ; chairs,  etc. 


COSTUMES. — Of  the  present  time. 


PROPERTIES 


Act  I.— Unfinished  fancy  bag  and  small  basket  of  embroidery  materials  f XL  s 
bietta;  table  china,  glassware,  napkins,  etc.,  on  sideboard;  1 ote-hook,  pap?  ai  d 
pencil  for  Blandinet;  pitcher  of  water,  glass  and  plate  of  radishes  for  Louis;  server 
with  coffee  in  cups  for  Joseph;  gold  watch  and  chain  for  Albert ; package  of  i ; ; h- 
for  Laura;  coins  for  Louis  and  Francois;  letter  for  Francois ; pfqrse  and  haiidk* ■:)*- 
chief  for  Blandinet. 

Act  II. — Dust  brush  and  cloth  for  Joseph  and  Prudence;  hat  for  Louis;  pitcher’ 
of  hot  water  for  Joseph;  bill  for  Blandinet;  decanter,  pitcher  of  water  and  bowl  .f 
sugar  on  sideboard;  also  dishes  and  tumblers;  boots  for  Mizalran;  shoes  for  Sso* 
ond  Bootmaker;  watch  for  Blandinet;  file  of  bills  for  Louut  hat  on  table  f 'yt  J 
Blandinet;  scarf  pin  for  Francois;  writing  materials  on  table  i*. ; coin  for  Ajlbek  ?; 
muff  and  handkerchief  for  Blandinet.  . • 

If  Act  III. — Scales  for  Joseph;  keys  and  small  account  book  f vv  Blandinet  ; si  » 
of  paper  (boot  measure)  and  bank  notes  for  Mizabran;  scarf  pir  fVr;IIiant)for  Alb  d ... 
folded  document  for  Aubertin;  writing  materials  on  desk. 


STAGE  DIRECTIONS. 


R.  means  Right  of  Stage,  facing  the  Audience;  L.  Left;  C.  ( 
Centre;  L.  C.  Left  of  Centre:  D.  F.  Door  in  the  Flat,  or  Scei 
back  of  the  Stage;  C.  D.  F.  Centre  Door  in  the  Flat;  R.  D. 
Flat;  L.  D.  F.  Left  Door  in  the  FlatpR.  D.  Right  Door;  L.  D. 
Entrance;  2 E.  Second  Entrance;  U.  E.  Upper  Entrance ; 1,  2 
or  Third  Groove. 

R-  R.  C.  C.  L.  C. 

JSSaT  The  reader  is  supposed  to  be  upon  the  stage  facing  the 

[For  Syi 


W 


if5b 


BAD  ADVICE. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  An  elegantly  furnished  room.  Doors  o.,  r.  and  l.  A table 
c.,  mi  for  breakfast;  small  table  and  sideboard  l.  ; sofa  r. ; 

chai)%  eU  v 

Discovers  Henrietta  seated  on  sofa  r.,  embroidering  a bag;  Louis 
seated  beside  her  on  a cricket . 

Henrietta  What  a chattering  you  do  keep  up.  Really,  Louis,  if  you 
persist  in  pouring  your  confidences  into  my  ears,  I shall  never  finish  my 

bag. 

, Louis.  Tim  ' mould  be  too  bad? 

IplEtf  And  how  disappointed  Laura  will  be. 

Are  you  making  it  for  her? 

Bek. ’It  is  rny  contribution  to  the  raffle  she  is  getting  up.  She  is 

coming  for  it  to-day,  and  if  it  is  not  done 

'&■  :.XouT3*  Ob.  1 She  is  coming  here  to-day  ? 

{tHen.  Yes,  she  is  coming  here  to-day. 

Lou  s.  And  . ou  promise  me  that  you  will  speak  to  her? 
wjugr.  I promise  you.  And  you,  on  your  part,  must  speak  to  her  fath- 
er; and  if  ' o?  thing  goes  well,  and  I believe  it  will,  in  less  than  two 
weeks  Monsieur  and  Madame  Blandinet  will  have  the  honor  to  announce 
to  their  frietdu  and  acquaintances,  the  engagement  of  their  son  Louis 
£0  Mademoiselle  Laura  Aubertin. 

.dj  LotriS.  Oil!  how  good  jrou  are. 

Heu  ‘ hy.  a step-mother,  you  know,  must  be  doubly  good  if  she 
fvould  conquer  prejudice. 

Louis.,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  marrying  again,  my  father  has  given 

me.  a sister. 

Enter  Joseph,  c He  places  dishes  upon  the  table , takes  chairs  from  L. 
and  arranges  them  at  table. 

Hen.  That  mast  not  prevent  your  respecting  and  obeying  me. 

Louis  (asmmirig  a childish  tone).  Of  course  not,  mamma. 

- Joseph.  I? real  fast  is  served,  madame. 

Louis.  Go  and  tell  my  father,  Joseph. 

Hen.  (to  Joseph).  Your  master  is  in  the  library,  (to  Louts)  He  is  en- 
gaged in  l terrible  undertaking.  [ Exit  Joseph,  c. 

Louis.  A terrible  undertaking.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Hen.  He  is  writing  to  his  tenants  to  tell  them  that  he  is  about  to  raise 

their  rent. 


? \o\^\ 


BAD  ADYICE. 


* 

Louis.  What ! My  father  raise  the  rent ! ( smiling ) Oh ! it  is  impossi- 
ble. For  twenty  years  he  has  not  been  able  to  make  up  his  mind  to 
do  it. 

Hen.  I persuaded  him  to  do  so  this  morning.  “They  are  not  ten- 
ants,” he  said;  “they  are  friends.  I shall  break  up  a friendship  oi 
twenty  years  standing. 

Louis.  Poor  father ! what  a tender  heart  he  has. 

Enter , l.,  Blandinet,  with  a paper  in  Ids  hand. 

Hen.  ( seeing  him).  There  he  is ! ( she  and  Louis  rise.  To  her  hus- 
band) Well,  my  dear,  have  you  done  it? 

Blandinet.  Have  I done  it  : have  I done  it?  Do  you  think  it  is  a 
thing  to  be  done  in  a moment?  (unfolding paper)  I have  made  a rough 
draft 

Hen.  ( looking  over  his  shoulder').  Why,  you  have  scratched  most  of 
it  out ! 

Bland.  Yes;  I tried  to  soften  it.  (reading)  “ Sir — ” (stops)  Sir,  to  men 
from  whom  I have  received  money  for  twenty  years ! 

Hen.  Why  not  make  it  “Dear  Sir”  ? 

Bland.  Ah,  yes — that  is  a good  idea.  ( taking  out  pencil)  I will  write 
it  down  so  that  I shall  not  forget  it.  (writes)  “Dear  Sir.”  (reads)  “Dear 
Sir — I beg  you  to  believe  that  it  is  with  feelings  of  the  deepest  regret 
that  I take  my  pen  in  hand  to  write  to  you ” 

Hen.  Very  good. 

Bland.  Is  it  not  a little  formal— a little  cold? 

Louis  (laughing).  Why,  no  ; it  doesn’t  strike  me  so. 

Bland,  (reading).  “But  reasons,  which  I am  sure  you  will  appreciate 
when  I have  made  them  known  to  you,  oblige  me  to  take  this  painful 
step ” 

Louis.  First  rate! 

Hen.  Well,  what  next? 

Bland.  That  is  as  far  as  I have  got.  I stopped  there 

Hen.  and  Louis.  What! 

Bland.  Hang  it  all ! I promise  them  reasons,  and  I have  none  to  give. 
Oh!  if  I only  had;  but  I have  not.  The  houses  are  just  the  same  as 
when  I let  them  to  them,  I have  not  enlarged  them — I have  not  even 
kept  them  in  decent  repair.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  in  a wretched 
condition.  Why,  it  is  they  who  ought  to  ask  me  for  a reduction  of  their 
rent.  That  would  be  more  reasonable. 

Hen.  That  may  be,  my  dear,  but  as  everybody  is  raising  his  rents 

Bland,  (animated).  No,  it  is  cruel,  it  is  wicked!  It  is^a  mean,  heart- 
less thing  which  you  wish  me  to  do. 

Louis.  Father! 

Hen.  Well,  well,  we  will  drop  the  subject  for  the  present.  Come  and 
sit  down  to  breakfast. 

Bland.  No,  I am  not  hungry.  When  one  lias  such  a letter  to  write— 

Hen.  Well,  you  can  write  it  later,  at  the  end  of  the  next  quarter. 

Bland,  (delighted).  Yes,  that  will  be  better.  It  will  give  me  time  to 
seek  for  reasons— good  reasons,  if  there  are  any.  ( they  sit  at  table)  Ah  ! 
I feel  relieved,  (to  Louis)  Pass  me  the  radishes,  Louis,  (to  his  wife)  By 
the  way,  you  know  that  my  brother  Francois  is  coming  to-day. 

Hen.  I have  had  a room  prepared  for  him. 

Louis.  I’ll  bet  that  my  uncle  has  raised  his  rents. 

Bland.  If  he  has  good  reasons  he  has  done  right  When  I have  good 
reasons  I am  very  firm.  I am  indeed  something" of  a tyrant. 

Hen.  (laughing).  You? 


BAD  ADVICB. 


Louis.  Poor  father ! ’ - 

Bland.  Why,  you  remember  Williams,  our  old  coachman. 

Hen.  Who  got  drunk  every  day. 

Louis.  And  upset  us  three  times  in  a week. 

Bland.  I summarily  discharged  him. 

Hen.  That  is  to  say,  I sent  him  away. 

Bland.  You— well,  yes;  but  I told  you  to.  I would  not  have  him  any 
longer.  “ Get  rid  of  him,”  I said,  and  you  attended- to  the  details. 

Louis.  And  you,  you  sent  him  a hundred  francs  by  Joseph,  when  he 
went  away. 

Bland.  Ahem  ! Joseph  is  a tattler.  Give  me  a glass  of  water. 

Louis  (i giving  him  water').  By  the  way,  father,  on  the  Bourse  there 
were  rumors  about  your  banker,  Monsieur  Turneps.  They  say  that  he  is 
in  a bad  condition. 

Bland.  All ! poor  fellow ! I must  go  and  call  upon  him. 

Louis.  Not  himself,  but  his  business. 

Bland.  Really  ? Ah  ! I am  deeply  grieved  to  hear  it. 

Louis.  It  is  also  said  that  you  have  three  hundred  thousand  francs 
deposited  in  his  hands. 

Bland.  That  is  true. 

Louis.  Had  you  not  better  authorize  me  to  withdraw  them  ? 

Bland.  What!  All  at  once?  That  might  hurt  his  feelings.  Poor 
fellow ! I should  not  do  that. 

Louis.  But 

Bland.  I must  withdraw  them  gradually,  without  having  the  appear- 
ance of  doing- it— five  thousand  francs  at  a time. 

Louis  {aside).  He  would  never  finish  at  that  rate. 

Bland.  By  the  way,  has  Mizabran,  my  bootmaker,  been  here  this 
morning  ? 

Hen.  Yes,  and  said  he  would  call  again.  There  is  a tenant  who  pays 
you  in  fine  words. 

Enter  Joseph,  c.  He  removes  plates  and  brings  coffee. 


Bland.  He  is  a poor  man  and  the  father  of  a family  ; and  after  all, 
he  only  owes  me  for  six  quarters. 

Louis.  Six  quarters ! 

Bland.  Yes-;  but  he  has  an  account  against  me.  Last  week  he  brought 
me  three  pairs  of  boots. 

Louis.  Which  you  had  not  ordered. 

Bland.  It  is  is  true.  He  had  the  delicacy  to  make  them  without  wait- 
ing for  an  order.  . {Exit  Joseph,  c. 

Hen.  So  that  at  the  present  moment  you  have  sixty  pairs  of  new  boots 

in  vour  wardrobe ! t 

Bland  Well,  what  can  I do?  I can’t  wear  them  all ; and  then  it  is 
partly  vour  fault,  my  dear.  If  you  would  only  let  him  make  your  boots, 
he  would  soon  pay  me  all  he  owes.  The  honest  fellow  only  asks  a 

chance  to  work.  _ ..  . , . 

Hen.  No,  I thank  you;  I beg  to  be  excused.  Why,  the  boots  he 
makes  vou  would  fit  an  elephant! 

Bland.  But  they  are  well  made,  and  don’t  hurt  me.  I hate  tight 
boots. 

Enter  Joseph,  c. 


Jos.  Monsieur! 

Bland.  What?  , 

Jos.  Mizabran  is  here.  He  says  he  comes  about  the  rent. 
Hen.  and  Louis  {astonished).  What ! 


BAD  ADVICE. 


b 

upland.  There ! Yon  see  he  brings  me  money,  (to  Joseph)  Show  him 
in.  (to  Henrietta  and  Louis)  You  shouldn’t  be  too  hasty  in  judging 
such  people.  [Exit  Joseph,  c. 

-Enter  Mizabran,  c. 

Bland.  Come  in,  Mizabran,  come  in. 

Mizabran  (with  German  accent).  Oh  ! pardon  me;  I disturb  you.  I 
will  call  again. 

Bland.  No,  no ! sit  down.  I will  finish  my  coffee  and  then  am  at 
your  service.  (Mizabran  looks  up  and  down  l.  and  not  seeing  a chair, 
'places  his  hat  on  the  floor.  Blandinet  still  at  table)  Well,  what  news, 
Mizabran ? Business  looking  up  a little? 

Miz.  (taking  a measure  f rom  his  pocket).  Alas  ! no.  My  business  is 
very  bad — very  bad.  (gets  on  his  knees  beside  Blandinet  and  takes  his 
measure.) 

Bland,  (drinking  his  coffee,  not  seeing  him).  I am  sorry  to  hear  it, 
my  good  fellow,  (perceiving  him)  Why,  what  are  you  doing  there? 

Miz.  I thought  that  on  rent  day — (rises.) 

Hen.  (aside  to  Blandinet).  Always  the  same  story  ! 

Louis  (aside).  Sixty-one ! Father  had  better  open  a boot  store. 

Bland,  (aside).  I must  talk  to  the  fellow.  This  is  becoming  a nuis- 
ance. (aloud,  rising)  Mizabran,  I hope  you  will  not  take  offence  at  what 
I am  going  to  say  to  you  ; but  I must  confess  that  to-day  I hoped  for  a 
little  money. 

Miz.  Oh  ! M.  Blandinet,  believe  me 

Bland,  (lowering  his  voice).  Not  all,  but  a little. 

Miz.  It  is  not  my  fault,  monsieur  ; and  if  I could  I certainly  would.  I 
said  to  my  wife  this  morning,  there  is  no  greater  happiness  than  paying 
one’s  rent. 

Bland.  You  are  a good  fellow,  Mizabran  ; your  sentiments  do  you 
honor. 

Miz.  But  business  is  very  dull ; it’s  all  owing  to  the  American  war. 
I really  can’t  pay  anything.  I would  if  I could. 

Bland,  (to  his  wife).  You  see,  my  dear,  the  fact  is,  he  can’t  do  any- 
thing. 

Miz.  Besides,  my  wife  is  sick,  and  my  little  one  has  got  the  whooping- 
cough. 

Blan.  (asicle).  Poor  people  ! how  I pity  them. 

Miz.  I have  always  been  a good  tenant,  monsieur. 

Bland.  I know  it,  my  good  fellow,  I know  it. 

Miz.  Misfortunes  come  to  the  best  of  us.  I do  try  to  get  work,  (blub- 
bering) Oli ! M.  Blandinet,  you  make  me  feel  so  badly. 

Bland.  I ? 

Miz.  You  seem  to  think  that  I do  not  wish  to  pay. 

Bland,  (quickly).  I did  not  say  that ; you  are  mistaken,  Mizabran, 
you  are  mistaken. 

Miz.  (still  blubbering).  It  is  very  painful,  when  one  is  an  honest  man, 
and  one  has  a sick  wife 

Bland.  Come,  cheer  up.  my  good  fellow.  All  will  come  out  right. 

Miz.  Oh!  I have  no  luck;  everything  seems  to  go  against  me.  Adieu, 
monsieur. 

Bland,  (detaining  him.  In  a low  voice).  Well,  make  me  three  or  four 
pairs  ; but  don’t  say  anything  about  it  to  my  wife. 

Miz.  Thank  you,  monsieur.  I notice  that  your  foot  is  growing  larger, 
but  the  price  will  be  just  the  same. 

Bland.  Very  well.  Adieu,  Mizabran. 

Miz.  (bowing).  Adieu,  monsieur— madame. 


BAD  ADVICU.  7 

Bland.  ( accompanying  him).  Courage ! my  good  fellow,  courage ! It 
will  come  out  all  right.  {Exit  Mizabran,  c. 

Bland.  ( sitting  down  at  table).  Poor  fellow!  I am  afraid  I was  rather 
hard  oil  him. 

Louis  {laughing).  I thought  you  were  terribly  severe. 

Hen.  And  after  all  you  did  not  receive  a sou. 

Enter  Joseph,  c. 

Jos.  Monsieur,  your  tenants  are  here. 

Bland,  (to  his  wife).  You  see— it  is  just  noon — how  prompt  they  are. 

Hen.  (rising,  as  does  Louis).  Do  they  bring  their  rent? 

Jos.  I do  not  know,  madame;  but  they  have  some  requests  to  make. 

Bland.  Ah  ! Show  them  into  my  office.  {Exit  Joseph,  c. 

Hen.  (to  Louis).  Don’t  you  think  you  had  better  go  with  your  father? 

Louis.  I will  do  so  willingly.  (Joseph  re-enters  and  clears  table.) 

Bland.  That  is  a good  idea,  because  when  there  are  two,  if  they  ask 
me  anything  I can  refer  them  to  you.  Come ! 

As  they  are  going  out  Albert  enters , c. 

Louis.  What ! Albert ! 

Bland.  My  nephew ! 

Hen.  (aside).  He! 

Albert.  Well,  uncle,  how  are  you,  and  you,  Louis?  (bowing  coldly 
to  Henrietta)  Madame ! 

Bland.  Why  where  have  you  kept  yourself,  my  boy?  I have  not  seen 
you  for  a year  and  a day.  Formerly  we  could  hardly  drive  you  away 
from  here. 

Albert  (embarrassed).  It  is  true,  uncle  ; but  you  know  business  is  a 
hard  taskmaster.  I have  been  working  almost  constantly. 

Bland.  Ah ! 

Albert.  Yes,  very  hard,  (changing  his  tone)  Hasn’t  papa  arrived? 

Bland.  Not  yet,  but  we  are  expecting  him. 

Albert.  He  wrote  me  to  meet  him  here. 

Bland.  But  for  that  you  would  not  have  come.  Oh  ! I shall  have  to 
scold  you,  my  boy.  But  excuse  me  for  a short  time.  There  are  some 
persons  waiting  in  my  office.  Stay  and  chat  with  your  aunt.  Come, 
Louis.  It  is  agreed  that  I shall  refer  them  to  you.  (exit  with  Louis,  l. 
Henrietta,  who  had  seated  herself  after  Albert’s  entrance , rises  and 
folds  up  her  work. ) 

Albert  (approaching  her  hesitatingly).  Have  you  finished  your  work, 
aunt?  [Henrietta  bows  coldly  and  exit , r. 

Albert  (after  watching  her  out).  Always  the  same!  She  is  still 
angry.  Ever  since  I told  her  that  I thought  she  was  beautiful,  she  has 
treated  me  with  cold  disdain.  Well,  she  is  pretty,  and  I’m  sure  there 
was  no  harm  in  my  telling  her  so. 

Enter  Francois,  c. 

Francois  (entering).  Upon  my  word,  there  is  a driver  for  you ! He 
dared  to  ask  me  for  a gratuity ! I’m  not  a fool  if  do  I look  like  one.  I 
am  up  to  that  sort  of  thing. 

Albert.  Hello,  papa ! 

Fran.  Ah  ! my  boy,  is  it  you  ? 

Albert  (offering  to  embrace  him).  Will  you  allow  me? 

Fran.  ( keeping  him  back).  One  moment ! I want  to  question  you  first. 
How’s  business? 


8 


BAD  ADVICE. 


Albert.  Good. 

Fran.  Your  conduct? 

Albert.  Excellent. 

Fran.  Your  habits? 

Albert.  Irreproachable. 

Fran.  Yery  good.  You  may  embrace  me.  ( they  embrace.  Aside) 
That  is  the  way  to  bring  up  children  ! 

Albert.  Everything  going  on  well  at  home,  papa? 

Fran.  Not  badly.  Cottons  are  dull,  but  worsteds  are  active!  ( ener- 
getically) Oh  ! we  shall  end  by  beating  them  soundly. 

Albert.  Beating  who? 

Fran.  Why,  the  English,  to  be  sure.  Where  is  my  brother? 

Albert.  In  his  office.  I will  tell  him  you  are  here,  {goes  up  l.) 

Fran,  {crossing  r.).  No,  don’t  disturb  him  ; I can  have  a little  talk 
with  you.  You  say  that  you  are  busy? 

Albert.  Yes,  papa. 

Fran.  You  are  telling  the  truth? 

Albert.  Do  you  doubt  it? 

Fran.  No  ; but  I believe  only  what  I see.  Have  you  done  any  plead- 
ing yet? 

Albert.  Not  yet,  papa ; I have  had  no  cases.  But  I give  lessons  in 
law — lectures. 

Fran.  And  you  make  money  ? 

Albert.  Yes,  papa. 

Fran.  How  much? 

Albert  {hesitating).  Why 

Fran.  How  much? 

Albert  {resolutely).  Four  hundred  francs  a month. 

Fran.  A nice  little  sum.  Let  me  see  them. 

Albert.  I haven’t  them  with  me. 

Fran.  You  know  what  I told  you — when  you  saved  up  anything  you 
were  to  send  it  to  me. 

Albert.  Yes,  papa. 

Fran.  I promised  you  ten  per  cent.,  just  to  encourage  you  ; but  I have 
seen  nothing  yet. 

Albert.  A little  later — this  year  I had  to  furnish  my  room. 

Fran.  Ah ! To-morrow  morning  I will  go  and  see  your  furniture. 
Albert.  And  then  I bought  a gold  watch  and  chain,  {showing  them) 
Here  they  are. 

Fran.  A watch  ! What  the  devil  do  you  want  of  a watch  in  Paris  ? 
It’s  a needless  extravagance  ; there  are  plenty  of  clocks  here. 

Enter  Blandinet  and  Louis,  l. 

Bland,  {to  Louis  as  he  enters).  I tell  you  they  are  right;  they  ought 
not  to  be  obliged  to  pay  the  taxes  on  doors  and  windows. 

Albert.  But  it  is  customary,  papa. 

Bland.  I let  them  a house  ; of  course  they  must  be  able  to  get  in  and 
out,  and  they  must  have  light  and  air.  Let  us  be  logical,  my  son. 

Fran,  {interrupting).  But  it  is  customary. 

Bland.  What!  Francois!  I did  not  see  you.  I hope  you  had  a pleas- 
ant journey. 

Fran.  Very  pleasant,  {they  shake  hands.) 

Bland.  And  everything  is  going  well  with  you? 

Fran.  Not  bad.  Worsteds  are  active. 

Bland.  Ah  ! that  is  good. 

Louis.  Well,  uncle,  don’t  you  intend  to  speak  to  me? 


BAB  ADVICE.  9 

Fran.  Why,  it  must  be  Louis,  my  nephew!  {grasps  his  hand)  I didn’t 
recognize  you,  my  boy. 

Bland.  You  haven’t  seen  him  for  two  years;  and  he  has  let  his  mus- 
tache grow. 

Fran.  Ah!  And  you  allowed  it? 

Bland.  What?  Allowed  his  mustache  to  grow?  Why,  how  does  it 
concern  me? 

Fran.  You  ought  to  exercise  your  authority. 

Bland.  Your  son  wears  one. 

Fran.  What!  he? — lie  wear  a mustache?  Look  at  him.  {looks  at 
him ) Why,  bless  me ! so  he  does.  I’ll  have  it  off  at  short  notice,  I prom- 
ise you.  {to  Albert)  Go  to  the  barber’s  at  once.  Don’t  let  me  see  you 
with  that  thing  again,  {to  Blandinet)  And  what  are  you  going  to  make 
of  this  great  boy  with  a mustache? 

Bland.  He  is  an  advocate. 

Louis.  I am  an  advocate. 

Bland.  Like  his  uousin. 

Fran.  Does  he  plead  ? 

Louis.  Oh  ! not  yet. 

Fran.  Ah ! It  seems  to  me  that  none  of  the  advocates  in  Paris  plead. 
And  how  do  you  occupy  your  time? 

Bland.  Why,  he  walks  and  drives,  and  goes  into  society. 

Albert  {to  his  father).  There,  you  see,  papa. 

Fran,  {to  Albert).  Silence!  Don’t  listen  to  such  stuff. 

Bland.  And  besides,  he  assists  me  in  looking  after  my  property.  He 
has  my  power  of  attorney. 

Fran.  Bah  ! That  cannot  be  very  fatiguing. 

Louis  {aside).  What  is  he  trying  to  pry  into  our  family  affairs  for? 

Fran.  I believe  that  at  the  age  of  twenty  a young  fellow  is  a man,  and 
ought  to  be  no  expense  to  his  parents,  {to  Albert)  Are  you  listening? 

Albert.  Yes,  papa. 

Bland.  What!  no  expense?  How  do  you  expect  the  boy  to  live? 

Fran,  {pointing  to  Albert).  You  see  that  youth  there?  On  his  twen- 
tieth birthday  I cut  off’  his  allowance.  I said  to  him:  You  are  a,  man- 
shift for  yourself;  and  he  did.  He  has  made  his  own  way.  He  gives 
lessons  in  law — he  lectures,  and  he  makes  money,  {to  Albert)  Is  that 
true? 

Albert.  Yes,  papa. 

Bland.  But  you  give  him  something? 

Fran.  Five  louis  on  his  birthday,  and  five  louis  on  New  Years  day.  I 
place  them  in  my  own  hands  to  his  credit,  and  allow  him  interest  at  ten 
per  cent. — that  interest  I add  to  the  principal. 

Bland.  Great  good  that  does  him  ! 

Fran.  The  first  year,  indeed,  he  did  attempt  to  wheedle  something 
out  of  me.  He  wrote  me  a pitiful  story,  gotten  up  for  the  occasion  ; but 
I promptly  refused.  I Avrote  him  but  a few  words,  and  they  were  to  the 
point.  “You’ll  get  nothing  out  me.  I am  up  to  that  sort  of  thing. 
You  can’t  fool  me  ! ” 

Bland.  And  he  loves  you  ? 

Fran.  Does  he  love  me?  {brusquely  to  Albert)  Do  you  love  me? 

Albert.  Oh!  yes,  papa. 

Fran.  There,  you  see  ! 

Bland,  {aside).  Poor  boy ! 

Fran.  And  your  son — how  much  do  you  give  him? 

Bland.  Why,  I give  him  whatever  he  asks  for.  I don’t  keep  any  ac- 
count of  it. 

Louis.  When  I am  out  of  money  I tell  my  father. 


BAD  ADVICE. 


Ill 

Albert.  Happy  fellow ! 

Fran,  (to  Albert).  Don’t  listen  to  tliem  ! (repeating  Louis’  words) 
“When  I want  money  I tell  my  father.”  Bah!  I suppose  he  comes 
clown  handsomely. 

Bland.  Louis  is  very  reasonable  in  his  requests. 

Fran,  (pointing  to  Albert).  When  that  boy  came  into  the  world  I 
opened  an  account  with  him — Albert’s  account.  How  much  do  you  sup- 
pose he  has  cost  me  since  his  birth  ? 

Bland.  I am  sure  I don’t  know. 

Fran.  Twelve  thousand  francs,  twenty  centimes;  and  the  postage  on 
the  letter  in  which  I told  him  I would  send  him  no  money. 

Bland.  I congratulate  you.  Louis  has  cost  me  at  least  twice  that 
amount. 

Fran.  T wen ty-four  thousand  francs ! It’s  absurd. 

Bland.  Ah  ! I do  not  regret  them.  I have  in  return  for  them  a noble 
son — a loving  heart. 

Louis  (moved).  Ah ! yes — a son  who  loves  and  respects  you  as  the 
best  and  kindest  of  fathers,  (grasps  his  hand  warmly.) 

Fran.  Bah! — Which  is  my  room ? 

Bland,  (pointing  l,).  The  one  next  my  office — the  same  that  you 
have  always  had. 

Fran.  ( talcing  his  hag.  To  Albert).  You  will  dine  with  me.  We  will 
pass  the  evening  together. 

Albert  (aside).  Ah  ! how  annoying ! (aloud)  I am  sorry,  but 

Fran.  What  ? 

Albert.  That  is— I have  to  give  a lesson  this  evening,  a very  impor- 
tant one. 

Fran.  Very  well.  I will  dine  with  your  uncle,  and  I will  go  to  see 
you  to-morrow, ’to  have  a look  at  your  furniture.  Now  I have  seen  you, 
you  are  doing  well.  Be  off\about  your  business,  and  be  sure  and  have 
that  mustache  shaved  oft*. 

Albert.  Adieu,  papa.  Adieu,  uncle — Louis,  (aside  to  Louis)  I say, 
there’s  a nice  papa  for  a fellow ! [. Exit , c. 

Fran,  (aside,  watching  Albert  as  he  goes  out).  There,  that  is  a boy 
as  is  a boy ! (Exit,  l. 

Bland.  Poor  boy,  left  to  shift  for  himself. 

Louis.  Yes,  uncle  brings  up  children  at  a reduced  price ! 

Bland,  (shaking  his  head).  Well,  he  may  be  right,  but  I prefer  my 
own  method. 

Enter  Aubertin  and  Laura,  c. 

Aubertin.  Good  morning,  Blandinet.  (Louis  and  Laura  cross  to  r.) 

Bland.  Ah  ! Aubertin  ! Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you? 

Aub.  (in  a low  tone).  Nothing.  Send  the  children  away  ; I want  to 
speak  with  you. 

Bland.  With  me?  (to  Louis)  Take  Laura  to  your  mother.  I think 
she  has  something  to  give  her. 

Laura.  For  my  raffle.  To  tell  the  truth,  that  is  what  I came  for. 

Bland.  Go,  my  children.  [Louis  and  Laura  exit , r. 

(To  Aubertin)  Now  tell  me  what  it  is;  you  look  completely  upset. 

Aub.  I should  think  I might.  I have  not  closed  my  eyes  for  three 
nights. 

Bland.  Is  your  wife  sick? 

Aub.  No,  my  friend ; but  I have  no  news  of  the  “Belle  Irma,”  now 
long  overdue. 

Bland.  What!  the  “Belle  Irma”? 

Aub.  A ship  I have  been  expecting  from  America. 

Bland.  Ah ! yes.  I thought  that  "she 


BAB  ADVICfi.  11 

AtiB.  She  should  have  been  at  Havre  two  weeks  ago,  and  she  has  not 
been  signalled  yet. 

Bland.  She  has  been  delayed. 

Aub.  If  it  were  only  that.  I received  advices  two  months  ago  that 
she  had  successfully  run  the  blockade.  Relying  upon  the  proceeds  of 
her  cargo,  I assumed  heavy  obligations,  and  if  by  noon  the  day  after  to- 
morrow I do  not  raise  a very  important  sum,  I shall,  perhaps,  be  obliged 
to  suspend  payment. 

Bland.  Oh  ! my  poor  friend ! And  how  much  ?— how  much  do  you 

need? 

Aub.  A very  large  amount. 

Bland.  Very  large? 

Aub.  I have  tried  everywhere,  and  I still  lack  50,000  francs. 

Bland.  Oh  ! is  that  all?  Why,  my  dear  friend,  you  almost  made  me 
afraid 

Aub.  Of  what? 

Bland.  I feared  you  needed  more  than  I could  lend  you. 

Aub.  What!  you? 

Bland.  Of  course  ! 

Aub.  Oh  ! no.  I will  not  take  it. 

Bland.  Why? 

Aub.  Because,  if  my  ship  should  not  arrive,  I am  not  sure  of  being 
able  to  repay  it. 

Bland.  What  would  be  the  merit  of  my  lending  it,  if  you  were  sure 
you  could  return  it?  I might  as  well  lend  to  the  Bank  of  France. 

Aub.  But 

Bland.  Come,  my  friend  Gustave,  no  foolish  scruples. 

Aub.  {smiling).  Gustave! 

Bland.  That  is  the  name  by  which  I used  to  call  you,  years  ago,  when 
we  were  schoolboys  together.  As  one  grows  older  he  puts  aside  the  fa- 
miliar name,  for  fear  of  appearing  ridiculous.  But  when  one  is  alone 
with  an  old  friend,  it  is  good  to  use  the  endearing  term.  Come,  there 
is  no  one  here,  call  me  Edmond.  It  will  give  me  real  pleasure. 

Aub.  {grasping  his  hand).  Edmond  ! 

Bland.  Gustave ! Ah  ! I feel  as  if  I were  a boy  again. 

Aub.  What  a friend  you  are ! 

Bland.  Don’t  talk  nonsense,  Gustave.  I will  go  and  look  at  my  bank 
account,  and  at  noon  day  after  to-morrow  you  shall  have  what  you  need. 
As  to  your  cotton,  it  will  come  along  all  right.  Don’t  worry  about  that. 

[Exit,  l. 

Aub.  What  a noble  man  ! Oh  ! there  is  nothing  like  a friend  in  need. 
I will  go  back  to  the  telegraph  office — there  may  be  news,  perhaps. 
(goes  up  c.) 

Enter  Louis,  r. 

Louis.  Are  you  going  away,  Monsieur  Aubertin  ? 

Aub.  Yes;  I have  business  to  attend  to.  I will  return  for  my  daugh- 
ter. 

Louis  {hesitating).  I — I want  to  speak  to  you. 

Aub.  To  me?  i will  listen  to  you,  my  boy. 

Louis.  What  I have  to  say  to  you  is  very  important. 

Aub.  Well,  go  on— only  be  as  brief  as  possible. 

Louis.  I will  detain  you  but  a moment. 

Aub.  Speak  ! 

Louis.  Monsieur  Aubertin,  I love  your  daughter  Laura. 

Aub.  Ah ! indeed ! You  are  brief. 


12 


BAD  ADVICE. 


Louis.  I believe  that  she  loves  me  in  return,  and  it  is  my  dearest  hope 
that  siie  may  one  day  become  my  wife. 

Aub.  My  dear  Louis,  I will  be  as  brief  as  you.  You  are  a good,  honest 
fellow.  I like  you.  You  resemble  your  father;  and  I shall  be  happy, 
very  happy,  to  have  you  for  a son-in-law. 

Louis.  Oh!  monsieur. 

Aub.  But  circumstances,  which  I cannot  explain  to  you,  do  not  per- 
mit me  to  give  you  a definite  answer  for  a week. 

Louis.  I will  wait,  Monsieur  Auberbin. 

Aub.  Wait  and  hope,  as  I do. 

Louis.  Oh,  yes,  I will  hope. 

Aub.  (aside).  By  that  time  I shall  be  rich,  or  I shall  be  ruined,  {aloud) 
Hope! 

Louis.  How  good  you  are ! 

Exit  Aubertin,  o.  Louis  goes  up  with  him , and  on  turning  sees 
Laura,  who  enters  r.,  at  work  on  hag . 

What!  are  you  working  on  that  bag? 

Laura.  I must,  since  you  prevented  Madame  Blandinet  finishing  it 
this  morning,  (sits  near  table , l.) 

Louis.  Ah  ! She  told  you  of  our  conversation? 

Lau.  Hand  me  the  silk,  please. 

Louts.  There  it  is,  mademoiselle.  ( taking  silk  from  basket  on  table.) 
Lau.  I thought  I should  find  my  father  here. 

Louis.  He  left  me  but  a moment  ago,  but  he  will  soon  return.  I had 
a little  conversation  with  him. 

Lau.  Ah!  a conversation.  Upon  what  subject? — But  no,  I must  not 
ask  you  that. 

Louis  {going  to  table).  What  a pretty  bag!  I am  sorry  I prevented 
its  being  finished  {a  pause)  What  a lovely  day!  {sits.) 

Lau.  Charming! 

Louis.  The  sky  is  so  clear ! 

Lau.  Ah  ! Monsieur  Blandinet,  you  are  trying  to  change  the  subject. 
Come,  now,  what  did  you  say  to  my  father? 

Louis.  I was  talking  with  him  about  a — a young  lady. 

Lau.  Ah  ! a young  lady. 

Louis  (quickly).  Whom  you  do  not  know — a lady  I love,  and  whom  I 
hope  to  marry. 

Lau.  And  what  did  my  father  say? 

Louts.  He  told  me  to  hope.  ( lie  rises  and  approaches  her.) 

Lau.  ( joyfully , rising).  Ah  ! (changing  her  tone)  Oh  ! I forgot  that  I 
do  not  know  her.  (sits.) 

Louts  (embarrassed).  No — that  is— perhaps  you  will  some  day. 

Lau.  I hope  so,  I am  sure. 

Louis  ( after  a pause).  When  does  your  raffle  come  off? 

Lau.  Next  week.  Can’t  I sell  you  a ticket?  (taking  package  from  her 

po  'feet. ) 

Louis.  Of  course.  I shall  be  only  too  happy  to  have  one.  How  much 

are  they? 

Lau.  Only  a franc. 

Louis.  I will  take  two.  I hope  I shall  be  lucky  enough  to  draw  some- 
thing. 

Lau.  You  would  give  it  to  the  young  lady,  I suppose. 

Louis  (absent-mindedly).  What  young  lady? 

Lau.  Why,  the  one  you  were  talking  to  papa  about.  You  did  not  tell 
me  her  name. 


BAD  ADVICE. 


13 


Louis.  Ah,  yes ; I had  forgotten. 

Lau.  {laughing).  Forgotten  her  name  ! Well,  upon  my  word,  you  are 
a gallant  young  man. 

Louis  {annoyed).  Oh ! I didn’t  mean  that,  {aside)  How  ridiculous  I 
must  appear  to  her. 

Lau.  Well,  if  you  won’t  tell  me  who  she  is,  you  might  at  least  tell  me 
something  about  her.  Is  she  pretty  ? 

Louis  {enthusiastically).  Lovely ! 

Lau.  That  is  nice.  Can’t  you  describe  her  to  me? 

Louis  {this  description  should  be  suited  to  the  lady  playing  the  part 
of  Laura).  I will  try,  but  I can’t  begin  to  do  her  justice.  If  you  must 
know,  she  is  about  your  age.  She  has  fair  hair,  dark  blue  eyes,  a com- 
plexion like  the  rose,  teeth  like  pearls,  and  a ravishing  smile.  She  is  as 
good  as  she  is  beautiful,  and  one  cannot  know  her  without  loving  her. 

Lau.  What  a paragon  she  must  be ! How  I should  like  to  know  her. 

Louis  {forgetting  himself).  You  do ! 

Lau.  What!  Why,  you  said  just  now  I didn’t. 

Louis  {confused).  Yes— I mean,  you  have  seen  her. 

Lau.  I can’t  think  where.  I have  no  recollection  of  meeting  such  a 
perfect  being  as  you  describe. 

Louis  {aside).  What  a fool  I am  making  of  myself.  Oh ! if  I only  had 
the  courage  to  speak  out. 

Lau.  {aside).  How  confused  he  seems.  It  is  too  bad  to  tease  him  so. 
{aloud)  Well,  of  course,  if  you  don’t  wish  to  give  me  any  further  infor- 
tion,  Monsieur  Blandinet,  I have  no  right  to  ask  it;  but  I would  so  like 
to  know  who  she  is. 

Louis  {growing  bolder).  Would  you,  really? 

Lau.  Of  course  I would.  You  know  I feel  a deep  interest  in  you,  we 
have  been  such  old  friends. 

Louis( {pathetically).  Friends ? 

Lau.  (laughing).  Why,  of  course— -friends. 

Louis  {aside).  I can  stand  this  no  longer,  {aloud,  after  a pause , tak- 
ing her  hand)  Laura ! 

Lau.  {aside).  At  last! 

Enter  Francois,  l. 

Louis  {aside).  Uncle  Francois ! Why  couldn’t  he  have  waited? 

Fran,  {to  himself).  Well,  I am  dressed  at  last,  {seeing  Louis  and 
Laura)  Oh  ! oh  ! — have  I disturbed  you? 

Louis.  Not  at  all.  Uncle,  allow  me  to  present  to  you  Mademoiselle 
Laura  Aubertin. 

Fran,  {bowing).  Mademoiselle,  I have  had  business  transactions  with 
your  father.  He  is  a hard  worker,  and  I see  that  you  follow  his  exam- 
ple. You  are  right.  I like  people  who  work. 

Louis  {aside).  He  intends  that  as  a hit  at  me. 

Fran.  That  is  a pretty  thing  you  are  making.  What  do  you  call  it? 

Lau.  It  is  a handkerchief  bag.  We  are  going  to  have  a raffle,  and 
this  is  one  of  the  articles  to  be  raffled.  Won’t  you  buy  some  tickets? 

Fran,  {aside).  I put  my  foot  in  it  this  time. 

Lau.  {taking  tickets  from  her  pocket).  How  many  would  you  like? 

Louis.  Come,  uncle.  Of  course  you  will  buy  some.  It  is  a deed  of 
charity. 

Fran.  What!  I?  I have  often  invested,  but  I never  drew  anything 
in  my  life,  but  once— a pair  of  slippers — and  they  were  too  small  for  me. 

Lau.  You  had  better  try  once  more.  Perhaps  I may  bring  you  good 
luck. 

Fran.  Well,  give  me  five  francs  worth,  {aside)  When  one  has  business 


14 


BAB  ADVICE. 


with  the  father,  it  is  best  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  the  family,  (gives 
her  money  and  takes  tickets.) 

Enter  Blandinet,  l.  He  has  a note-book  and  pencil  in  his  hand , and 
appears  to  be  calculating. 

Bland.  Thirty-one  thousand — and  twenty-live  shares  Lyons  Railway, 
forty  thousand. — I shall  have  enough,  (seeing  Louis)  Ah,  Louis  ! 

Louis.  What  is  it,  father? 

Bland.  Put  on  your  hat  and  run  to  Durandet’s,  my  broker.  Tell  him 
to  sell  twenty-five  Lyons  Railway,  at  best  price. 

Louis.  Yes,  father. 

Bland.  If  you  hurry  you  can  get  there  before  the  Bourse  closes. 

Louis.  I will  take  a carriage,  (to  Laura)  Excuse  me,  mademoiselle. 

[Exit,  c.  Laura  remains  at  table  and  goes  on  with  her  work. 

Fran.  What ! you  are  selling  Lyons  shares  ? Do  you  think  they  are 
going  down  ? 

Bland.  I?  No;  but  I have  need  of  fifty  thousand  francs. 

Fran.  Ah! 

Bland.  I have  promised  to  lend  them  to  a friend. 

Fran.  What! 

Bland.  An  old  companion. 

Fran.  Is  it  possible?  You  are  crazy  ! 

Bland.  Why? 

Fran.  Fifty  thousand  francs  ! Who  is  this  friend?, 

Bland.  Well,  it  is —(seeing  Laura)  No— I will  not  tell  you  his  name. 

Fran.  Some  swindler,  I’ll  be  bound. 

Bland.  Come,  Francois,  I will  not  allow  you  to  say  that.  I told  you 
he  was  my  friend. 

Fran.  He  gives  you  security  at  least? 

Bland.  I tell  you  he  is  a friend. 

Fran.  Bah!  You  exasperate  me  with  your  friend. 

Bland.  If  you  knew  his  situation 

Fran.  I don’t  need  to  know  it — I can  see  through  the  whole  tiling. 
He  told  you  some  harrowing  story,  arid  you  believed  it — you  swallowed 
it  as  a fish  swallows  a hook.  You  are  a fool ! 

Bland.  Francois! 

Fran.  Yes,  a fool ! You  believe  everything.  You  let  your  feelings 
be  worked  upon,  and  allow  yourself  to  be  plundered  by  a lot  of  beggars. 

Bland.  I do  not  allow  myself  to  be  plundered  by  any  one.  When  it 
is  necessary  I can  be  as  firm  as  you.  Only  this  morning  I was  severe 
to  one  of  my  tenants. 

Fran.  Yes,  as  you  used  to  be  severe  to  the  workmen  when  we  were  in 
business  together. 

Bland.  Well,  but,  it  seems  to  me 

Fran.  I placed  the  younger  ones  under  your  supervision,  as  they  were 
the  easiest  to  look  after 

Bland.  Well,  what  would  you  have?  It  made  me  heartsick  to  see 
those  poor  little  youngsters  working  ten  hours  a day  tending  bobbins. 

Fran.  And  so  you  said  to  them,  “Rest,  my  children  ; don’t  work  so 
hard — health  before  everything.  You  mustn’t  ruin  that.” 

Bland.  It  is  possible. 

Fran.  And  what  was  the  result ! A clear  loss  to  us  of  two  hundred 
francs  a day. 

Bland.  You  exaggerate. 

Fran.  And  I was  obliged  to  send  you  to  Paris— you  and  your  tender 
heart. 


Sad  advice. 


IS 


Bland,  (sighing).  The  workmen  were  sorry  to  have  me  gd. 

Fran.  And  when  you  returned  to  Paris,  you  suddenly  took  offence 
and  withdrew  from  the  firm. 

Bland.  Not  at  all.  I dip.  not  take  offence,  but  I reflected  ; I thought 
the  matter  over,  and  I decided  that  1 could  not  continue  to  grow  rich  at 
the  expense  of  others’  sufferings. 

Fran.  Ah ! very  pretty.  You  use  fine  words  now,  as  all  men  do  after 
they  have  retired  from  business.  Well,  I continue  to  grow  rich  alone, 
and  instead  of  having  to  economize  on  a miserable  income  of  twenty- 
five  thousand  francs 

Bland.  But  I find  it  enough.  Each  one,  Francois,  to  his  own  taste. 
My  heart  is  perhaps  a tender  one,  but  I thank  God  that  it  is  open  to  the 
complaints  of  my  fellow-men.  I cannot  dine  with  pleasure  when  I know 
that  those  about  me  are  hungry. 

Fran.  Bali ! Is  any  one  hungry?  Who  is  hungry? 

Bland.  Those  who  have  nothing  to  eat.  Only  yesterday — no  longer 
ago  than  yesterday— I met  a miserable  being  iu  the  street,  who  had  eaten 
nothing  for  five  days. 

Fran.  He  told  you  so  ? 

Bland.  He  told  me  so— or  rather,  he  reluctantly  confessed 

Fran.  And  you  gave  him  money  ? 

Bland.  Of  course. 

Fran.  Well,  you  were  imposed  upon.  In  the  first  place, 'one  can’t  live 
five  days  without  eating. 

Bland.  How  do  you  know  ? Have  you  ever  tried  it  ? 

Fran.  No. 

Bland.  Well,  try  it. 

Fran.  If  you  had  bought  him  a loaf  of  bread  you  would  have  seen  how 
hungry  he  was. 

Bland.  What  do  you  mean? 

Fran.  He  would  have  told  you  to  go  to  the  devil.  Ah!  I am  up  to 
all  their  dodges.  I know  all  about  them.  You  can’t  fool  me. 

Bland.  Well,  Francois,  when  a man  makes  an  assertion  like  that, 
there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said.  When  a friend,  a lifelong  friend,  comes 
to  confide  to  you  his  embarrassments  and  his  troubles,  instead  of  extend- 
ing a hand  and  saving  him,  the  reply  is  “You  can’t  fool  me.”  An  un- 
fortunate being  accosts  you  in  the  street— 1 ‘Away  with  you  ; you  can’t 
fool  me.”  One  has  an  only  child,  a son;  he  throws  him  without  re- 
sources upon  the  streets  of  Paris,  and  when  the  poor  fellow,  humiliated 
and  perhaps  ashamed — obeying  his  childish  instincts — turns  to  his 
father,  he  is  written,  “Oh,  I know  all  about  it ; you  can’t  fool  me,”  and 
is  charged  for  the  postage  of  the  letter  in  his  account.  Oh,  Francois, 
it  is  villainous ! it  is  cruel ! and  you  will  make  me  believe,  if  you  keep 
on,  that  you  are  a 

Fran.  A what?  Speak  out. 

Bland.  No,  I will  not  say  it,  for  it  would  give  you  pain. 

Fran.  Have  you  finished  ? 

Bland.  Yes. 

Fran.  Well,  then  let’s  go  to  Bre'bant’s  and  have  a dinner  ; I will  see 
your  wife  and  tell  her  that  I am  going  to  carry  you  off. 

Bland.  I should  like  to  go  to  Bre'bant’s,  for  they  have  good  dinners 
there,  but 

Fran.  Oh ! we  won’t  enter  into  another  discussion.  For  me  the  world 
is  divided  into  two  classes,  those  who  are  taken  in,  and  those  who  are 
not.  You  and  I don’t  belong  to  the  same  class,  that  is  all. 

Bland.  You  flatter  me. 

Fran.  But  I stick  to  all  that  I have  said.  With  your  fine  words  and 


l(j  BAB  ADVICE. 

your  sensitive  nature,  you  will  never  be  anything  but  an  old  fool. 

[Exit,  r. 

Bland  ( reflecting ).  A fool ! — an  old  fool ! 

Lau.  ( rising  and  going  to  him).  And  I tell  jtou  that  you  are,  and  al- 
ways will  be,  a noble  man  ! ( taking  his  hand)  Oh  ! how  I love  you! 

Bland.  What,  my  dear — you  heard  ? 

Lau.  Yes.  Oh ! Monsieur  Blandinet,  continue  to  believe  in  good — 
continue  to  do  it.  Be  on  the  side  of  those  who  are  wretched,  and  in 
trouble,  and  in  want.  It  is  the  best,  whatever  one  may  say. 

Bland.  Of  course  it  is,  my  dear. 

Lau.  What  do  you  care  whether  they  are  grateful  or  not?  A kind  act 
is  not  done  for  the  sake  of  a return ; but  it  is  a good  investment,  never- 
theless. 

Bland.  To  be  sure,  (aside)  I am  sorry  that  Francois  is  not  here  to 
hear  her. 

Lau.  Look  at  me.  I feed  all  the  little  birds  in  my  neighborhood. 

Bland.  Really? 

Lau.  Yes.  Every  morning  I scatter  crumbs  upon  the  balcony.  In* 
winter  I brush  away  the  snow,  so  that  their  little  feet  may  not  be  cold. 
In  summer  I place  branches  to  protect  them  from  the  sun.  Well,  do 
you  think  they  are  grateful  to  me?  Not  at  all.  As  soon  as  I open  my 
window  the  ingrates  fly  away  ; some  of  them  even  peck  at  me  with 
their  beaks. 

Bland.  Ah  ! 

Lau.  But  I do  not  ask  for  gratitude.  They  do  not  owe  it  to  me.  They 
are  God’s  creatures  who  are  hungry,  and  I am  only  too  happy  to  give 
them  food.  You  have  your  little  birds.  Every  one  has  his 

Bland.  Oh  ! my  little  angel,  come  to  my  arms ! (embraces  her  and 
wipes  his  eyes. ) 

Enter  Francois,  r. 

Fran,  (aside).  There,  he  is  weeping  now!  (aloud)  Ahem  ! 

Lau.  ( seeing  him).  Oh  ! Adieu,  M.  Blandinet.  Don’t  give  up  the 
little  birds  ; care  for  them— provide  for  them.  [Exit,  r. 

Fran.  Come,  now,  let’s  go' to  dinner.  Ah,  by  the  way,  here  is  a letter 
your  wife  asked  me  to  give  you. 

Bland.  A letter ! (opening  it)  Ah  ! Great  Heaven  ! The  poor  crea- 
tures ! 

Fran.  What  is  it? 

Bland.  Ah  ! you  say  that  no  one  dies  of  hunger.  Listen,  (reading) 
“I  address  myself  to  you,  knowing  your  kind  heart ” 

Fran,  (aside).  A trick. 

Bland,  (reading).  “I  am  without  work ” 

Fran,  (aside).  A lazy  beggar. 

Bland,  (reading).  “ My  father  is  blind,  my  mother  paralyzed.  I have 
three  infants  in  the  cradle,  who  ask  me  for  bread ” 

Fran,  (sarcastically).  In  the  cradle?  They  speak  early,  these  young- 
sters. 

Bland,  (reading).  “ Will  you  leave  us  in  misery,  you  who  are  so  kind 
and  generous?  Simonet.  15  Maury  street,  seventh  story,  the  ladder  on 
the  right.”  (greatly  moved)  They  have  to  climb  up  to  their  roofn  by  a 
ladder. 

Fran.  ( ironically ).  It  is  rather  bad  for  the  blind  father. 

Bland,  (in  good  faith).  And  the  paralyzed  mother.  ( reading ) “Post- 
script. Leave  the  answer  with  the  concierge.”  (taking  out  his  purse) 
Poor  people ! 

Fran.  What!  you  swallow  that  tale? 


BAD  ADVICB. 


17 


Bland.  Oli ! one  does  not  invent  such  a story.  A blind  father— a 
ladder — a paralyzed  mother.  Besides,  they  are  my  little  birds.  Every 
one  has  his 

Fran.  What  nonsense  are  you  talking  ? 

Bland.  It  is  true  ; she  said  so.  You  were  not  here.  Do  you  think 
that  forty  francs- 

Fran.  Don’t  be  absurd.  I tell  you  what,  I will  make  you  a bet 

Bland.  A bet? 

Fran.  That  there  is  not  one  word  of  truth  in  that  letter. 

Bland.  What ! Well,  so  be  it.  I should  like  to  convince  you  at  least 
once.  What  shall  we  bet? 

Fran.  Our  dinner  at  Brebant’s.  But  first  we  will  go  and  eat  it. 

Bland.  Oh  ! no.  I could  not  dine  with  this  letter  in  my  pocket.  We 
will  go  first  and  see  these  poor  people.' 

Fran.  Very  well ; come  along.  But  you  will  have  to  pay.  A ladder 
on  the  seventh  story!  That  seems  to  me  rather  suspicious. 

Bland,  (aside).  Cold-hearted  man  ! He  does  not  even  believe  in  the 
ladder.  [They  go  out  c.  as  curtain  falls. 

curtain. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE. — Same  as  Act  1.  Joseph  and  Prudence  discovered. 

Prudence  (dusting).  It  is  very  strange,  all  the  same,  that  master  is 
not  up  yet. 

Joseph.  Neither  is  his  brother.  It  seems  that  they  dined  out  together 
yesterday,  and  did  not  come  home  until  late. 

Enter  Henrietta,  l.,  in  walking  costume. 

Henrietta,  What!  eleven  o’clock,  and  your  work  not  yet  finished? 

Prud.  It  is  all  done,  madarne. 

Jos.  We  were  afraid  of  waking  master. 

Hen.  Is  he  still  asleep  ? Can  he  be  sick  ? 

Jos.  Oh  ! no,  madarne  ; but  he  came  in  late,  and  walked  up  and  down 
his  room  part  of  the  night. 

Hen.  He  must  have  taken  coffee — that  always  keeps  him  awake.  Say 
to  him  that  I have  gone  out,  I have  an  engagement  at  my  dress- 
maker’s. 

Jos.  Yes,  madarne.  [Exit  r. , followed  by  Prudence. 

Hen.  I must  hasten  or  I shall  be  late. 

Albert  (outside).  Very  well,  I will  wait  for  him. 

Enter  Albert,  c. 

Hen.  {turning).  What!  You  here? 

Albert.  Ah  ! my  aunt!  I need  not  ask  you  how  you  are;  you  look 
as  fresh  as  a rose.  (Henrietta  bows  coldly  and  exit  c.)  She  is  still  an- 
gry. A pretty  woman,  but  cold  and  distant. 

Enter  Louis,  l.,  with  his  hat  on. 


18 


BAD  ADVICB. 


Louis.  Ah  ! Albert,  you  here  ? 

Albert.  Good  morning,  Louis.  I am  waiting  for  papa. 

Louis.  He  is  not  up  yet. 

Albert.  I know  it.  He  and  your  father  dined  together  yesterday,  and 
I guess  the  old  fellows  made  a night  of  it!  Well,  I am  in  no  hurry  to 
meet  him.  I am  not  in  the  best  of  spirits  this  morning. 

Louis.  You  are  in  trouble? 

Albert.  Well,  yes — no  ; but  I am  in  debt.  I owe  twelve  thousand 
francs. 

Louis.  You  ! in  debt? 

Albert.  Hang  it ! for  two  years  papa  has  cut  off  my  allowance,  so  I 
had  to  borrow,  and  now  my  creditors  are  pressing  me. 

Louis.  What ! they  are  threatening  you? 

Albert.  That  is  the  fact.  I don’t  know  how  the  rascals  learned  that 
papa  was  in  Paris,  but  they  have  somehow,  and  they  are  profiting  by 
the  circumstance. 

Louis.  Wiiat  are  you  going  to  do? 

Albert.  I am  sure  I don’t  know.  What  would  you  advise? 

Louis.  There  is  but  one  course  open  to  you — that  is  to  confess  all  to 
your  father. 

Albert.  No,  that  would  never  do.  You  must  think  of  something 
else. 

Louis.  If  I were  in  your  place,  that  is  what  I should  do. 

Albert.  Yes  ; but  your  father  and  mine  are  very  different  persons. 
Your  father  is  a kind  man  ; he  would  sympathize  with  you  ; but  mine — 
Oli ! that  is  a quite  another  thing. 

Louis.  No,  you  are  wrong,  Albert.  Uncle  Francois  is  a little  harsh, 
but  he  is  an  excellent  man.  In  the  depths  of  his  heart  he  loves  you. 

Albert.  Yes,  pretty  well  down  in  the  depths,  I should  say. 

Louis.  Besides,  there  is  no  other  course. 

Albert.  It  is  true.  If  I could  only  find  a way. — Tell  me,  will  you 
break  it  to  him? 

Louis.  Oh ! no.  You  had  better  go  straight  to  him  yourself.  It  is 
the  wisest  thing  to  do.  Besides,  I am  going  out. 

Francois  {outside).  Joseph,  bring  me  some  hot  water  1 

Albert.  It  is  he ! 

Louis.  Well,  I must  leave  you.  Good  luck  to  you.  [Exit,  r. 

Enter  Francois,  l.,  in  dressing-gown. 

Fran,  {calling).  Joseph  ! some  hot  water,  {seeing  Albert)  Hello ! you, 
Albert?  What  are  you  doing  here? 

Albert.  I rose  early,  and  I said  to  myself,  I will  go  and  see  papa. 

Fran.  And  that  is  what  you  came  for? 

Albert.  Yes,  papa. 

Fran.  Albert,  I am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I hate  to  have  you 
lose  your  time  for  such  a foolish  errand.  Hello!  you  haven’t  shaved  off 
that  mustache  yet. 

Albert  {aside).  Well,  he  is  in  an  amiable  mood,  {aloud)  I forgot  to 
say  that  I have  a pupil  in  this  neighborhood. 

Fran.  Ah  ! if  you  came  on  business,  that  i-s  different.  Embrace  me. 
{they  embrace)  I had  a charming  time  last  evening.  I taught  your  uncle 
a lesson  he  won’t  forget  in  a hurry,  {abruptly)  Who  is  this  pupil  you  are 
going  to  see? 

Albert.  Oh  ! he  is  a pupil—  {aside,  struck  'with  a sudden  idea)  Oh  ! 
If  I only  could — I’ll  try — {aloud)  or  rather  it  is  a client,  who  begged  me 
to  come  for  a consultation. 


J3AB  ADVICE. 


19 


Fran.  Did  he  pay  you  ? 

Albert.  Of  course.  It  is  an  important  case. 

Fsan.  How  much  ? 

Albert.  Twenty-five  francs. 

Fran.  That  is  not  bad. 

Albert.  The  case  is  this:  My  client,  a young  man  of  excellent  family, 
a first-rate  fellow,  who  loves  his  father  well — oh ! he  loves  his  father 
tenderly — has  had  the  misfortune  to  get  into  debt. 

Fran.  Into  debt ! 

Albert.  Oh ! not  much — twelve  thousand  fraucs. 

Fran.  In  debt  twelve  thousand  francs ! ( vehemently ) Tell  your  client 
lor  me  that  he  is  a scamp. 

Albert.  His  excuse  is 

Fran.  Excuse ! There  is  no  excuse.  A young  man  who  has  a father, 
who  belongs  to  a respectable  family,  and  who  gets  into  debt,  can  he 
nothing  but  a scoundrel. 

Albert.  But 

Fran,  {angrily).  Come  now,  isn’t  that  your  opinion?  Give  me  a plain 
answer,  yes  or  no. 

Albert  {hesitating).  Yes — he  is  a scoundrel! 

Fran.  Ah ! 

Albert  {aside).  Decidedly  I had  better  not  say  anything  to  him  to- 
day. 

Fran.  If  you  had  done  such  a thing 

Albert.  Well? 

Fran.  But  I am  easy  on  that  point.  You  are  doing  well — you  work 
hard — you  save  money. 

Albert.  Save  ? Oh  ! very  little. 

Fran.  Why,  you  have  bought  a watch  and  chain,  and  you  have  furn- 
ished your  room.  By  the  way,  I will  go  and  see  your  furniture  to-day. 

Albert.  At  what  hour? 

Fran.  I will  breakfast  with  you,  my  boy. 

Albert.  Ah  ! Will  you  ? 

Fran.  Yes  ; but  don’t  get  up  anything  elaborate. 

Albert.  Have  no  fear,  {aside)  He  likes  a good  breakfast,  and  I will 
give  him  one.  After  eating  it  he  may  feel  better  disposed. 

Fran.  I will  shave,  and  in  just  half  an  hour  I will  be  at  your  room. 

Albert.  Au  revoir,  papa.  * [Exit,  c. 

Enter  Joseph,  r.,  with  a pitcher  of  hot  water. 

Fran.  Good  boy ! I love  him  well : but  I do  not  tell  him  so  ; it  is  not 
best  to  be  too  demonstrative.  Ah,  Joseph ! 

Jos.  Here  is  the  hot  water,  monsieur. 

Fran.  I breakfast  with  my  son — you  will  tell  Madame  Blandinet. 

Jos.  Very  well,  monsieur. 

[Exit  Joseph  and  Francois,  l.,  Joseph  carrying  water . 

Enter  Blandinet,  r. 

Bland.  I am  sick  at  heart.  I have  passed  a most  miserable  night — I 
could  not  sleep.  I went  to  15  Maury  street ; a wretched  street, "and  a 
wretched  house.  I was  deeply  moved.  I said  sadly  to  the  concierge, 
“ Where  shall  I find  the  unfortunate  Simonet?  ” He  replied,  “ The  fifth 
story,  the  door  to  the  left.”  I wns  somewhat  astonished,  as  the  letter  said 
seventh  story,  ladder  to  the  right.  But  what  did  that  matter?  We  went 
up.  I noiselessly  turned  the  handle  of  the  door ; we  entered,  and  we 


20 


BAD  ADVIC32. 


found— who?  My  old  coachman,  Williams,  the  man  my  ^^--■(correct- 
ing himself)  the  man  that  I turned  out  of  my  employ.  He  was  estab- 
lished there  with  an  English  groom  and  six  empty  bottles— not  a sign  of  a 
blind  father,  no  paralyzed  mother.  I confess  I was  amazed.  My  brother 
Francois  triumphed  ; he  exulted  over  me.  But  what  did  that  all  prove? 
Simply  that  I had  been  deceived  by  a rascal.  There  are  some  birds  that 
peck  at  you  with  their  beaks,  but  that  is  no  reason  lor  abandoning  the 
others. 

Enter  Francois,  l.,  dressed  for  a walk . 

Fran.  Ah ! ah ! Mr.  Philanthropist. 

Bland.  Ah ! Francois. 

Fran,  {laughing).  Seventh  story — ladder  to  the  right ! 

Bland.  Leave  me  in  peace,  I beg.  I paid  for  the  dinner,  and  you 
ought  to  be  satisfied. 

Fran.  Iam;  it  was  a good  one. 

Bland.  I should  say  so.  It  cost  fifty-seven  francs  ; here  is  the  bill, 
(i takes  it  from  his  'pocket ) Potage  a la  reine , two  francs  ; shrimps,  three 
francs. 

Fran.  Shrimps?  I didn’t  have  any  shrimps. 

Bland.  What!  I am  sure  I did  not. 

Fran.  Oh  ! those  restaurant  keepers  are  sharp  fellows. 

Bland.  But  you  don’t  suppose— Ah  ! there  was  a gentleman  next  to 
us  who  ate  them.  It  was  an  error,  that  is  all. 

Fran.  It  is  possible  ; but  if  I were  you  I would  verify  the  account  be- 
fore paying  it.  ( pointing  to  a bowl  of  sugar  and  a decanter  of  brandy 
on  the  sideboard)  And  further,  I would  lock  up  my  sugar  and  brandy; 
such  things  evaporate  easily. 

Bland.  Bless  me!  he  suspects  Joseph  now,  an  honest  fellow  who  has 
been  with  me  ten  years. 

Fran.  My  brother,  I belong  to  a class  which  is  not  to  be  duped.  Au 
re  voir.  I breakfast  with  my  son.  [Exit,  c. 

' Bland,  (alone).  Joseph,  a reliable  fellow,  whom  I would  trust  as  I 
would  myself,  {mechanically  approaches  the  sugar-bowl  and  counts  the 
pieces)  Four,  six,  seven,  eight,  and  a little  one.  I will  eat  the  little  one. 
( 'puts  it  in  his  mouth)  That  leaves  just  eight  pieces.  Now  the  brandy. 
{taking  the  decanter)  Not  that  I am  suspicious — oh  no;  it  is  to  confound 
my  brother.  How  shall  I mark  it?  Oh!  with  my  handkerchief,  (meas- 
uring) Truly,  I am  ashamed  of  myself.  I comes  just  to  there ; I will 
make  a knot,  (he  makes  a knot  in  the  handkerchief.) 

Enter  Mizabran,  c.,  with  a pair  of  boots . 

Bland.  What ! Mizabran  ! What  do  you  want? 

Miz.  I bring  your  boots,  monsieur. 

Bland.  Hush  ! If  my  wife  shonld  hear  you. 

Enter  Joseph,  l. 

Jos.  Madame  went  out  an  hour  ago.  She  has  gone  to  her  dress- 
maker’s. [Crosses  to  sideboard , takes  a dish , and  exit , c. 

Bland,  (taking  one  of  the  boots).  Well,  Mizabran,  are  they  good  ones? 

Miz.  Oh  ! monsieur,  examine  them.  Everything  in  them  is  of  the 
very  best  quality. 

Bland,  (aside).  What  a good,  honest  face  he  has;  it  is  a pleasure  to 
look  at  him. 

Miz.  It  is  calfskin,  the  very  best  calfskin. 

Bland.  Yes,  they  look  well,  (seeing  a second  bootmaker  who  is  shown 


BAD  ADVICE. 


21 


in  by  Joseph,  o.,  with  a pair  of  shoes  in  his  hand)  Another  bootmaker ! 
This  seems  to  be  bootmakers’  day. 

Jos.  {to  second  bootmaker).  Monsieur  Louis  will  return  shortly  ; you 
had  better  wait.  ( second  bootmaker  puts  shoes  on  a chair.) 

[ Exit  Joseph,  c. 

Bland.  Ah ! my  son’s  bootmaker.  He  too  has  a good  face.  ( taking 
up  shoes)  Ah  ! these  are  handsome  shoes. 

Bootmaker  {with  a German  accent).  I beg  you  to  examine  the  quality, 
monsieur;  it  is  calfskin,  the  very  best  calfskin.  ( pointing  to  the  boot 
made  by  Mizabran,  which  Blandinet  still  holds  in  his  hand)  That  boot 
you  have  is  cowhide. 

Bland.  ( astonished ).  What ! my  boots 

Bootmaker.  You  have  only  to  compare  them. 

Bland.  Allow  me.  ( takes  shoes  from  bootmaker  and  shows  them  to 
Mizabran)  Mizabran,  wliat  sort  of  leather  is  that? 

Miz.  That  is  cowhide.  ( pointing  to  those  he  brought)  That  is  calfskin. 

Bland.  Ah  ! thank  you.  {aside)  One  of  the  two  is  a liar — perhaps  they 
both  are.  {aloud)  Very  well,  gentlemen,  you  can  go.  {to  Mizabran,  who 
is  carrying  off  one  of  the  boots)  Look  here,  give  me  the  other. 

Miz.  Oh ! I beg  your  pardon.  [ Exit  with  bootmaker , c. 

Bland,  {comes  down  with  a boot  in  one  hand  and  the  pair  of  shoes 
in  the  other).  Everything  is  against  me  to-day.  To  be  sure  this  amounts 
to  nothing,  and  yet  it  annoys  me.  Must  I renounce  my  faith  in  boot- 
makers? I have  already  lost  it  in  restaurant  keepers,  {puts  boots  down 
on  chair  l.  ) Where  can  my  wife  be  ? why  does  she  not  return  ? {looking 
at  his  icatch — suspiciously)  Two  hours  at  the  dressmaker’s!  It  is  very 
strange.  Ah ! I fear  that  I am  of  too  confiding  a nature.  I let  Henri- 
etta go  and  come — go  out  and  return  when  she  pleases — a woman 
younger  than  I am — very  much  younger — and  pretty,  and  a coquette.  I 
suppose  she  must  be,  though  I have  never  observed  it.  But  she  buys 
diamonds  and  laces — to  please  whom?.  Come,  what  a fool  I am  ! Here 
I am  suspecting  my  wife  now.  It  is  that  brute  of  a Francois  who  has 
put  all  these  ideas  into  my  head. 

Enter  Louis,  c. 

Louis.  I have  just  been  to  .vour  broker’s,  and  here  is  the  money  for 
twenty-five  shares  of  Lyons  Railway  Company,  {hands  him  a package 
of  bills.)  * 

Bland.  Thank  you.  {puts  bills  in  coat  pocket  and  mechanically  but- 
tons up  coat  as  he  stands  reflecting)  My  son,  I want  to  speak  to  you. 

Louis.  And  I want  to  speak  to  you,  father. 

Bland,  {going  and  taking  up  one  of  the  shoes  and  returning  to  his 
son).  Let  me  speak  first.  Louis,  you  are  not  aware  of  one  thing  : your 
bootmaker  is  a cheat,  and  so  is  mine.  These  fellows  give  us  cow- 
hide— 

Louis  ( indifferently ).  Really  ! 

Bland.  I am  sure  of  it.  You  accept  everything  they  snv  as  truth;  it 
is  a fault.  With  such  people  we  must  be  suspicious.  It  is  just  the'  same 
with  restaurant  keepers  ; they  charge  you  for  shrimps — do  you  under- 
stand?— shrimps  that  you  have  not  eaten. 

Louis.  What  are  you  talking  about,  father? 

Bland.  I warn  you — you  are  young — you  can  acquire  the  habit  of  sus- 
pecting ; but  I— Well,  my  boy,  what  do  you  want  to  say  to  me?  {hands 
him  the  shoes  and  sits  down  near  table.) 

Louis  ( places  shoes  on  chair  and  sits  on  other  side  of  table).  I want 
to  talk  to  you  on  a subject  of  which  I have  already  spoken  to  my  mother. 


22 


BAD  ADVICE. 


Bland.  To  your  mother ! ( aside , looking  at  his  watch)  Two  hours  and 
a half  at  her  dressmaker’s ! it  is  very  strange. 

Louis.  I love  Laura  Aubertin  ! 

Bland.  Laura  ! She  is  charming — she  feeds  the  little  birds. 

Louis.  I hope  to  make  her  my  wife. 

Bland.  Weil,  my  boy,  if  you  love  her 

Louis.  Yesterday  I spoke  to  her  father,  and  he  told  me  to  hope. 

Bland.  What!  her  father!  It  is  impossible. 

Louis.  What? 

Bland.  In  his  position 

Louis.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  his  position 

Bland.  He!  He  is  ruined!  (rises.) 

Louis.  What! 

Bland.  I know  what  I am  talking  about.  I was  to  lend  him  fifty 
thousand  francs  to-morrow. 

Louis.  Perhaps  it  is  only  a temporary  embarrassment. 

Bland.  Of  course.  I do  not  suspect  Aubertin  ; he  is  a friend  ; but 
you  have  good  expectations,  and  one  might  believe — I am  sure  Francois 
would — that  M.  Aubertin  was  speculating  upon  your  love  for  his  daugh- 
ter. 

Louis  ( indignantly ).  Oh!  father! 

Bland.  It  is  not  I who  say  such  things — it  is  Francois.  The  daughter 
is  pretty,  and  he  might  use  her  as  a bait. 

Louis.  What ! is  it  my  father  who  speaks  thus? — my  good,  kind  father. 

Bland.  My  son,  I know  what  men  are— since  last  night. 

Louis.  Can  you  speak  so  of  an  old  friend  ? 

Bland.  It  is  not  I— it  is  Francois. 

Louis.  Really,  father,  you  pain  me  deeply. 

Bland.  But  I tell  you  it  is  not  I — it  is  Francois. 

Louis.  To  use  such  expressions  about  a family  which  from  my  child- 
hood you  have  taught  me  to  love  and  respect 

Bland.  But  I tell  you  once  more 

Louis  ( going  out  l.).  Ah  ! father,  I no  longer  recognize  you.  [Exit,  l. 

Bland.  Ah  ! Well,  yes,  the  boy  is  right;  but  it  is  not  my  fault.  The 
bootmakers,  the  shrimps — and  my  wife  not  yet  returned.  ( looking  at  his 
watch)  Three  hours  at  the  dressmaker’s ! It  is  highly  improbable;  there 
is  something  behind  it  all.  ( calling ) Joseph  ! Joseph ! my  hat. 

Jos.  ( entering  c. ).  Why,  there  it  is  on  the  table,  monsieur. 

Bland.  What!  Ah  ! so  it  is.  I am  going  out.  {aside)  There  is  some- 
thing wrong  about  this  visit  to  her  dressmaker’s. 

[Exit,  c.  A hell  rings. 

Jos.  There  is  madame  ringing.  I forgot  to  tell  master  that  she  re- 
turned two  hours  ago.  [Exit,  l. 

Enter  Francois  and  Albert,  c. 

Fran.  ( leaning  on  Albert’s  arm , they  are  both  a little  animated). 
Ah  ! that'  is  what  I call  a first-rate  breakfast.  Oysters,  cutlets,  cham- 
pagne. You  entertained  your  father  royally,  my  boy.  Embrace  me. 

Albert.  What!  {aside,  after  embracing  him)  I think  he  took  a little 
too  much  champagne. 

Fran.  You  have  given  me  a breakfast — I should  propose  that  you 
come  and  dine  with  me  ; but  I am  not  hungry. 

Albert.  No  more  am  I— I am  thirsty. 

Fran.  Ah  ! Albert,  you  think  that  I do  not  love  you,  because  I am 
hard  to  you— because  I do  not  send  you  money  ; but  it  is  for  your  good. 
It  gives  me  pain  to  do  it,  and  if  I listened  to  the  dictates  of  my  heart 


BAD  ADVICE. 


23 


Albert.  Oh ! listen,  papa. 

Fran,  {with  tenderness).  No  ; you  must  fight  your  own  battles;  you 
must  know  what  it  is  to  struggle  aid  suffer.  You  see,  all  men — listen 
to  me— all  men  who  have  become  remarkable,  have  had  to  undergo 
privations  and  hardships. 

Albert.  Oil ! but,  papa 

Fran.  When  you  have  become  celebrated— when  you  are  rich— I will 
refuse  you  nothing. 

Albert.  You  are  very  kind. 

Fran.  Ah  ! Albert,  you  think  that  I do  not  love  you  ; but  jxm  are  my 
sole  hope  and  joy,  and  if  I still  work  and  consume  my  life  in  making  cloth 
it  is 

Albert.  It  is  to  beat  the  English. 

Fran.  It  is  for  you— and  to  beat  the  English,  {with  effusion)  Come, 
embrace  me. 

Albert.  With  pleasure,  papa,  {they  embrace.  Aside)  I think  this  is 
a good  time  to  confess  the  twelve  thousand  francs,  {aloud)  Papa,  it  costs 
me 

Fran,  {inter rapting).  I examined  your  furniture;  it  is  very  pretty,  but 
you  have  too  many  looking-glasses. 

Albert.  I have  only  three. 

Fran.  That  is  too  many. 

Albert.  I bought  them  at  auction.  They  went  so  cheap  I could  not 
refrain  from  buying  them. 

Fran,  {looking  at  him  without  listening').  Ah  ! he  is  a fine  fellow,  my 
Albert!  How  handsome  he  is!  {to  him)  Look  here!  I have  given  you 
nothing  for  two  years.  I am  going  to  make  you  a present,  my  boy. 

Albert  {stupefied).  A present?  Me? 

Fran.  I am  going  to  give  you  my  diamond  pin.  {detaching  it  from 
his  shirt.) 

Albert.  Oh ! papa. 

Fran,  {pinning  it  on  Albert’s  shirt).  Do  not  lose  it.  It  cost  me 
twelve  hundred  francs.  Think  that  I have  worn  it  thirty  years,  and 
should  never  console  myself  if  it  were  to  be  lost,  {suddenly)  Give  it  back 
to  me. 

Albert  {jumping  back).  Oh  ! no. 

Fran.  Don’t  jump  like  that ; a slight  movement  would  do  just  as  well. 
{aside)  I was  wrong  to  give  it  to  him— he  is  too  young. 

Albert  {aside).  I must  tell  him.  {aloud)  Papa — my  good  papa^ — ~ 

Fran,  {putting  his  hand  to  his  head).  Oh  ! how  my  head  does  ache  ! 

Albert.  That  will  soon  pass  away.  I want  to  speak  to  you-  about 
that  unfortunate  young  man,  my  client,  who  is  in  debt  twelve  thousand 
francs. 

Fran.  He  is  a scoundrel!  and  if  I was  his  father  I would  send  him 
to— to  Africa. 

Albert  {aside).  Pleasant  for  me ! 

Fran.  Good  heavens ! how  my  head  aches.  I must  go  and  lie  down 
a little  while. 

Albert.  But.  papa 

Fran.  We  will  go  to  Lemblin’s  at  six.  Adieu.  Take  good  care  of 
your  pin.  {aside)  I did  wrong  to  let  him  have  it.  I will  make  him  give 
it  back,  {aloud)  Lemblin’s  at  six.  [Exit,  l. 

Albert.  It’s  of  no  use.  I wanted  to  tell  him  at  breakfast,  but  he  was 
not  sufficiently  softened.  There  is  a warrant  of  arrest  out  for  me.  If  I 
only  could — ( stopping ) How  thirsty  I am.  {sees  sugar  and  decanter  on 
sideboai'd)  Ah  ! I will  mix  myself  a drink,  {goes  to  sideboard , pours 
out  brandy  and  puts  in  sugar)  Let  me  see— I have  an  idea.  ( drinks ) It’s 


24 


BAD  ADVICE. 


a desperate  one,  but  it  may  work.  I will  write  to  the  officer,  {calls) 
Joseph! 

Enter  Joseph,  l. 

Jos.  Did  you  call,  monsieur  ? 

Albert.  Bring  me  a pen  and  some  ink. 

Jos.  You  will  find  everything  on  that  table,  {seeing  tumbler  in  Al- 
bert’s hand , aside)  Well,  he  makes  himself  at  home  here.  [ Exit , l. 

Albert  {sitting  at  table  writing).  “ Sir — The  law  must  take  its  course. 
Papa  is  in  Paris;  arrest  me  when  I am  with  him.  We  shall  go  to  Lein- 
blin’s  at  six  o’clock.”  There!  {finishes  drink)  In  that  way  papa  will 
know  all ; I sha’n’t  have  to  say  anything  to  him,  and  he  will  pay.  {re- 
flecting) Will  he  pay?  Suppose  he  should  let  me  go  to  prison,  I should 
want  a little  money  for  trifling  expenses,  {emptying  his  pockets)  Eleven 
francs.  Ah!  what  a fool  I am.  Uncle  Blandinet!  I will  borrow  twenty 
louis  of  him.  Now  to  send  my  letter.  [ Exit , R. 

Enter  Henrietta,  l. 

Hen.  How  piovoking  ! I must  have  left  my  muff  at  the  dressmaker’s. 
{calls)  Prudence! 

Enter  Blandinet,  c.,  very  pale  and  agitated , carrying  a muff. 

Bland.  At  last  you  are  here,  madame? 

Hen.  Ah  ! What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  dear? 

Bland.  I went  to  your  dressmaker’s,  madame,  and  they  told  me  that 
you  left  there  two  hours  ago ! 

Hen.  {astonished).  Certainly. 

Bland.  What  have  you  been  doing  for  two  hours? 

Hen.  Why,  I returned 

Bland.  Where  ? {aside)  She  seems  confused. 

Hen.  Here. 

Bland.  I did  not  see  you. 

Hen.  I was  in  my  chamber.  I was  mending  your  cravats. 

Bland.  Ah  ! Don’t  talk  to  me,  madame. 

Hen.  Madame!  What  do  you  mean?  You  must  have  lost  your 
senses. 

Bland.  Take  your  muff — your  accomplice ! 

Hen.  What?  (takes  muff  and  puts  it  on  chair  with  boots.) 

Bland.  Oh  ! I see  clearly  now  ; those  frequent  and  prolonged  goings 
out — those  visits  to  your  dressmaker.  Oh  ! you  can’t  fool  me. 

Hen.  What  are  you  talking  about? 

Bland.  Madame,  you  are  deceiving  me.  {louder)  I tell  you,  you  are 
deceiving  me ! 

Hen.  Why,  my  dear,  are  you  mad? 

Bland.  Oh!  I am  all  right.  I know  what  I am  talking  about.  You 
are  young,  you  are  pretty,  you  are  a coquette. 

Hen.  {laughing).  A coquette!  Well,  I never  expected  to  be  called 
that. 

Bland.  I say  you  are ! All  women  are  ! Do  you  suppose  I am  fool 
enough  to  believe  that,  during  the  six  years  we  have  been  married,  no 
one  has  ever  expressed  admiration  for  you? 

Hen.  It  is  the  truth,  nevertheless. 

Bland.  Will  you  swear  it? 

Hen.  {evasively).  Why 

Bland.  Ah  ! you  hesitate.  Hesitation  is  confession.  His  letters, 
madame ! I demand  his  letters ! 


BAD  ADVICE. 


25 


Hen.  Letters ! He  never  wrote  an}7. 

Bland.  All!  He!  There  is  a he.  I was  sure  of  it. 

Hen.  {aside).  What  an  unfortunate  slip  of  the  tongue. 

Bland,  {furious).  His  name,  inadame,  the  wretch’s  name! 

Hen.  The  name  of  the  gentleman  who  admired  me?  You  wish  to 
know  it? 

Bland.  Yes. 

Hen.  Well,  it  was  your  nephew,  Albert. 

Bland.  Wiiat!  Albert? 

Enter  Albert,  r. 

Albert  {entering).  Ah  ! there  he  is. 

Hen.  He  here!  I had  better  go.  [Exit,  hastily , l. 

Albert.  Good  morning,  uncle,  {aside)  He  looks good  natured.  {al.rtid) 
Uncle,  I wish  to  ask  a favor  of  you. 

Bland,  {dryly).  Well,  sir? 

Albert.  I want  to  know  if  you  will  lend  me  twenty  five  louis? 

Bland.  You  scoundrel ! you  dare  to  ask  me  for  money'? 

Albert  {amazed).  tJncle! 

Bland.  ( sarcastically ).  So,  you  admire  your  aunt.  You  think  her 
beautiful  ? 

Albert  ( perplexed ).  What ! 

Bland.  Don’t  al tempt  to  deny  it.  Your  aunt  herself  told  me  that  you 
expressed  an  admiration  for  her. 

Albert.  Of  coure  I admire  her. 

Bland:  What!  you  confess  it? 

Albert.  Every  one  admires  her. 

Bland.  Every  one / {aside)  I shall  go  mad. 

Albert.  But  she  never  seemed  to  like  me.  I don’t  know  why.  She 
always  treats  me  coldly. 

Bland.  Enough,  sir.  I have  lost  all  faith  in  you. 

Albert.  Then  you  won’t  let  me  have  the  money,  uncle? 

Bland.  No— a,  thousand  times,  no! 

Albert.  Ah  ! you  are  no  longer  Uncle  Blandinet ; you  are  just  like 
papa.  Adieu. 

Bland.  Where  are  you  going? 

Albert.  To  Lemblin’s  with  papa,  {aside)  The  die  is  cast!  [Exit,  c. 

Enter  Henrietta,  l. 

Hen.  Well,  my  dear,  you  saw  Albert? 

Bland,  {coldly).  Yes,  madaine,  I had  a talk  with  him. 

Hen.  Madame!"  Gome,  now,  aren’t  you  ashamed  of  your  absurd 
jealousy?  Why,  you  almost  made  me  laugh  in  your  face,  you  flew  off* 
into  such  a towering  passion,  and  ail  for  nothing. 

Bland.  Ah  ! you  may  call  it  nothing,  but  I consider  it  a very  serious 
thing  for  a nephew  to  admire  his  aunt. 

Hen.  What  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day?  You  are  so  changed  that 
I hardly  recognize  you. 

Bland.  Oh  ! I am  getting  my  eyes  opened,  madame. 

Enter  Francois,  c. 

Fran,  {violently).  Oh!  the  scamp!  the  rascal!  the  scoundrel ! 

Bland.  What  is  it? 

Fran.  Albert!  They  have  arrested  him,  on  my  very  arm,  as  we  were 
walking  along  just  after  leaving  the  house,  and  they  have  taken  him  to 
prison. 


26 


BAD  ADVICE. 


Bland.  What ! was  lie  in  debt? 

Kuan.  Twelve  thousand — twelve  thousand  francs! 

Bland.  Why,  that  makes  him  cost  you  twenty-four  thousand  francs— 
the  same  as  my  boy.  Well,  Albert’s  account  is  increasing — it  is  round- 
ing our. 

Fran.  It's  all  the  same  to  me  ; I will  not  pay  it.  He  shall  remain  in 
pris  m all  his  life  ! 

Bland.  Until  to-morrow  morning. 

Fran,  {furious).  Oh ! I would  like  to  have  him  here  under  my  very 
thumb,  {suddenly)  I will  go  and  get  him.  (goes  up  c.) 

Bland.  There’s  no  use  in  your  going. 

Hen.  ( crosses  l.,  aside).  Poor  fellow  ! [ Exit , l. 

Bland.  They  won’t  let  you  in  so  late.  The  prison  is  closed. 

Fran.  Do  you  think  so?  Then  give  me  a glass  of  water,  (comes  down 
and  sits  r.) 

Bland.  I will  get  you  one.  {goes  to  sideboard.) 

Fran.  Since  I cannot  see  him  I will  write  to  him.  I will  spend  the 
night  in  composing  a letter;  that  will  solace  me. 

Bland.  ( looking  at  sugar).  Ah  ! 

Fran.  What  is  it? 

Bland.  Five  pieces ! three  are  missing  ! 

Fran.  I told  you  so. 

Bland,  (seizing  decanter  and  looking  at  it).  It  is  lower,  (takes  hand- 
kerchief and  measures)  He  has  taken  nearly  a third. 

Fran.  Well,  are  you  convinced  now?  That  proves  that  in  this  world 
it  is  well  to  keep  your  eyes  open  and  your  doors  locked.  I will  go  to  my 
room  ; never  mind  the  water.  Oh  ! the  scoundrel!  [ Goes  out , l. 

Bland,  (alone).  It  is  not  possible ! I am  deceived,  (counts  pieces  of 
sugar  again)  Two,  four,  five.  Oh  ! Jos<  ph  ! Why,  I never  refused  him 
sugar.  I believe  Francois  is  right.  I am  one  of  the  class  that  are  taken 
in.  I will  get  into  the  other  class  as  soon  as  possible  ; and  to  commence 
I will  lock  things  up.  (puts  things  into  cupboard  and  locks  it)  It  seems 
that  the  world  is  filled  with  rascals — restaurant  keepers,  bootmakers, 
nephews,  servants,  and— friends!  That  Aubertin — Gustave!  what  a 
villainous  name,  (takes  up  muff ; boots  and  shoes)  Not  content  with  bor- 
rowing fifty  thousand  francs  from  me,  he  seeks  to  inveigle  my  son  into 
a marriage  with  his  daughter  ; but  I am  on  the  alert— my  eyes  are  open. 
Ah  ! I see  clearly  to-day.  (going  toward  L.)  Yes— but  1 was  much  hap- 
pier yesterday.  [ Goes  out  slowly,  l. 

curtain. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE.— Blandinet’s  office.  Door  in  flat  c. ; doors  r.  and  L. ; table 
c. ; desk  r.  ; bookcase  l.  ; chairs , etc. 

Henrietta  and  Joseph  discovered. 

Hen.  (to  Joseph,  who  has  a pair  of  scales  in  h is  hand).  Why,  what 
uro  you  going  to  do  with  those  scales'? 

Jos.  I don’t  know,  mu-dame.  Monsieur  Blandinet  told  me  to  buy 
them,  (places  scales  on  desk,) 


iBAD  ADVICE. 


27 

Enter  Prudence,  r. 

Prud.  Madame,  master  wants  all  the  accounts  for  the  year. 

Hen.  {aside).  Another  idea  now.  This  morning  before  daybreak  he 
woke  'me  up  to  ask  for  my  expense  book,  {to  Prudence)  What  is  your 
master  doing? 

Prud.  He  is  in  his  room,  looking  over  your  book.  lie  asked  for  mine. 
What  does  it  mean,  madame? 

IIen.  {aside).  Really  1 begin  to  think  he  is  losing  his  mind. 

Enter  Blandinet,  r.,  with  account  book  in  his  hand. 

Bland,  {calling).  Joseph  ! 

Jos.  Here  are  the  scales,  monsieur. 

Bland,  {taking  them).  All!  very  well.  Are  they  correct? 

Jos.  I just  got  them  of  the  hardware  dealer. 

Bland.  That  is  ho  proof  that  they  are  right.  The  hardware  dealer — 
he  is  an  enemy,  {to  Joseph)  Take  them,  and  when  the  tradesmen  come 
you  will  weigh  them. 

Jos.  {astonished).  What!  Weigh  the  tradesmen  ? 

Bland.  No,  the  goods  ; or  rather,  you  will  call  me;  I wish  to  be 
there. 

Jos.  Very  well,  monsieur,  {aside  to  Prudence)  What  is  the  matter 
with  him?  [ Exeunt  Joseph  and  Prudence,  r. 

Hen.  Why  are  you  so  distrustful?  Why  these  suspicions? 

Bland.  All ! I am  getting  my  eyes  opened.  I have  been  positively 
blind.  The  world  is  peopled  with  knaves  and  rascals;  I am  determined 
not  to  be  duped  by  them. 

Hen.  And  so  you  are  going  to  make  yourself  wretched? 

Bland.  Wretched?  Not  at  all.  Quite  the  contrary,  I assure  you.  I 
am  very  happy.  I feel  a real  pleasure  in  searching  out  all  the  little  de- 
ceptions of  my  fellow-men.  I am  studying  the  habits  of  noxious  ani- 
mals. 

Hen.  Can  you  speak  thus  of  people  who  love  and  esteem  you,  who 
open  their  doors  to  you? 

Bland.  The  spider  also  opens  his  parlors  to  the  little  flies  who  pass. 

Hen.  Oh  ! what  a comparison. 

Bland.  You  see,  I shall  be  very  happy — yes,  very  happy— if  any  one 
came  to  me  to  ask  a favor 

Hen.  All!  now  you  are  like  your  old  self. 

Bland.  I should  refuse  him,  harshly. 

Hen.  What! 

Bland.  Ah!  I begin  now  to  comprehend  what  a satisfaction  there  is 
in  disobliging  one's  friends. 

Hen.  {laughing).  Why,  you  are  positively  ferocious. 

Bland.  Not  at  all;  I am  becoming  civilized.  There — there  is  your 
expense  book,  {hands  it  to  her)  All ! did  you  know  that  my  hatter  is  a 
robber? 

Hen.  {places  book  on  table).  Indeed! 

Bland.  I have  positive  proof  of  it.  He  has  charged  me  for  four  hats 
this  year,  and  I have  only  had  two:  and  he  a father  of  a family  ! They 
are  a, 11  alike. 

Hen.  Two  of  the  hats  were  for  you,  and  two  for  Louis. 

Bland.  Ah!  are  you  sure? 

Hen.  Perfectly. 

Bland,  {vexed).  That  is  different.  There  is  nothing  to  say  then. 
{aside)  I will  catch  him  another  time. 


28 


BAD  ADVICE. 


Enter  Prudence,  r. 

Prud.  Madame.  I cannot  find  the  key  of  the  cupboard. 

Bland.  (_ fumbling  in  his  pocket).  There  it  is.  Bring  it  back  to  me 
immediately. 

Enter  Joseph,  r. 

Jos,  I can’t  think  what  has  become  of  the  key  to  the  pantry. 

Bland.  ( searching  in  other  pocket).  There  it  is.  Bring  it  back  to  me 
at  once.  Tell  my  son  to  come  to  me. 

[Exeunt  Prudence  and  Joseph,  r. 

TIen.  Ah  ! have  you  all  the  keys  in  the  house  in  your  pocket? 

Bland.  If  the  sugar-bowl  could  speak  it  would  say  that  the  best  place 
for  a key  is  in  its  master’s  pocket. 

Enter  Louis,  r. 

Louis.  Did  you  want  me,  father? 

Bland.  Yes;  I want  an  explanation  from  you.  This  morning,  on 
looking  over  your  mother’s  book,  I read — ( taking  book)  “May  16th, 
Louis,  sundry  expenses,  100  francs.”  What  was  that  for? 

Louis.  Why,  for  the  life  of  me  I can’t  remember,  it  was  so  long  ago. 
It  is  now  October. 

Bland.  Yes.  {looking  at  book)  I further  found— “June  19th,  Louis, 
sundry  expenses,  150  francs.”  You  have  a good  many  sundry  expenses. 

Louis.  But,  father 

Bland.  I do  not  suspect  you  ; still,  I should  like  to  know  what  be- 
came of  the  money.  Hereafter  I will  allow  you  100  francs  a month. 

Louis.  Oh ! 

Bland,  {quickly).  If  that  is  not  sufficient,  you  can  ask  me  for  more. 

Louis.  It  will  be  sufficient,  father. 

Enter  Joseph,  r. 

Jos.  The  butcher  is  here,  monsieur. 

Bland.  Very  well,  I will  come,  {rubbing  his  hands)  Ah  ! now  I will 
catch  him.  [Exit  with  Joseph,  r. 

Louis.  What  does  this  mean? 

Hen.  I cannot  understand  it.  I no  longer  recognize  your  father.  He 
must  be  ill. 

Enter  Francois  and  Albert,  c. 

Fran.  Enter,  scoundrel,  and  lower  your  eyes ! 

Hen  and  Louis.  What  is  if? 

Fran.  I present  you  a young  man  who  has  just  come  out  of  prison. 

Albert.  But 

Fran,  {angrily).  Lower  your  eyes  ! 

Albert  {aside).  It  is  all  right— he  lias  paid. 

Fran,  {to  Henrietta).  Just  think 

Hen.  Excuse  me;  some  one  is  waiting  for  me.  [Exit,  l. 

Fran.  Now  that  we  are  no  longer  in  the  street — now  that  I do  not 
fear  attracting  a crowd — now  ( threateningly ) I will  talk  to  you. 

Louis.  Uncle ! - 

Fran.  Leave  us ! (Louis  starts  to  go  out  l.  Albert  detains  him.) 

Albert.  Louis 

Fran,  {authoritatively).  Come,  leave  us  ! [Exit  Louis,  l. 

Fran.  Come  here ! Approach,  you  scamp  ! You  have  credit,  it  seems. 
You  find  fools  willing  to  accept  your  signature. 


BAD  ADVICE.  20 

Albert.  Papa,  I absolutely  needed  two  thousand  francs. 

Fran.  What  for?  To  waste  in  riotous  living? 

Albert.  Not  at  all. 

Fran.  Well,  tell  your  story,  and  then  I will  judge. 

Albert.  I was  recommended  to  a furniture  dealer— a good  worthy 
man— who  offered  to  lend  me  the  money  without  interest. 

Fran.  ( amazed ).  Ah  ! that  was  not  bad. 

Albert.  Wait!  He  imposed  one  condition — that  I should  buy  three 
looking-glasses  which  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of. 

Fran.  That  was  right — it  was  business. 

Albert.  This  good  man  made  me  sign  a note  for  four  thousand  fanes. 

Fran.  You  told  me  two  thousand. 

Albert.  Yes;  but  the  looking-glasses. 

Fran.  Two  thousand  francs— three  looking-glasses  ? 

Albert.  Looking  glasses  are  very  expensive  in  Paris,  especially  when 
one  doesn’t  want  them. 

Fran.  Well? 

Albert.  The  note  came  due— I could  not  pay. 

Fran.  You  should  have  written  to  me. 

Albert.  That  is  just  what  I did.  You  replied,  “Oh!  I know  all 
about  it.  You  can’t  fool  me!  You’ll  get  nothing  more  out  of  me.” 

Fran.  ( after  a moment  of  a pparent  emotion).  A\\ ! Well? 

Albert.  The  furniture  dealer  was  becoming  troublesome,  when  I made 
the  acquaintance  of  a dealer  in  shawls,  a very  straightforward  man.  He 
offered  to  lend  me  the  four  thousand  francs  wdthout  interest 

Fran.  What ! 

Albert.  Only  he  made  me  understand  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  sell 
me  a shawl.  What  could  I do?  I consented.  I signed  a note  for  eight 
thousand  francs. 

Fran.  Unhappy  boy ! Four  thousand  francs  for  a shawl ! 

Albert.  Oh!  it  was  was  a magnificent  one. 

Fran.  You  can  give  it  to  me.  When  you  marry  your  wdfe  can  ha  ve  it. 

Albert.  That  is  true,  (handing  his  father  a piece  of  paper)  There 
it  is. 

Fran.  What  is  this?  A pawm  ticket?  (turning  threateningly  to  him) 
You  rascal ! you  pawned  it? 

Albert  (resolutely).  Yes,  papa,  one  day  when  I was  hungry. 

Fran,  (amazed).  What!  hungry?  But  your  lessons— your  lectures? 

Albert.  I deceived  you.  I give  none. 

Fran.  Then  what  have  you  lived  on  these  two  years? 

Albert.  Ah  ! I don’t  know.  Many  a day  I have  goue  to  bed  without 
having  eaten— 

Fran.  What!  Good  Heaven!  (aside,  greatly  moved)  My  poor  boy! 
My  little  Albert!  (looking  at  him)  How  thin  he  is!  (aloud)  Albert! 

Albert.  Papa? 

Fran,  (opening  his  tirms).  Come  to  my  arms! 

Albert  (embracing  him).  Oh  ! papa. 

Enter  Louis,  l. 

Louis.  What! 

Fran,  (to  Albert,  weeping).  I was  cruel  not  to  have  sent  you  money. 
Louis ! 

Louis.  Uncle? 

Fran.  Can  I procure  at  once  three  or  four  beefsteaks  and  a bottle  of 
Bordeaux? 

Louis.  Very  easily.  If  you  will  go  into  the  dining-room  Joseph  will 
get  them  for  you. 


BAB  ABViOl. 


96 

Fran.  I don’t  want  them  for  myself.  I am  not  hungry. 

Albert  {moved).  Oh  ! neither  am  I. 

Fran.  That  may  be;  but  I want  to  see  you  eat.  I want  you  to  get 
back  your  strength. 

Albert.  Well,  to  please  you,  papa. 

Fran.  Give  me  your  arm.  I want  to  see  you  eat.  Poor  boy  ! {patting 
his  arm . Aside ) How  thin  he  is— how  thin  he  is!  {aloud)  Come! 

{They  exeunt  l. 

Louis  {laughing).  Now  lie  is  going  to  stuff  him. 

Enter  Blandinet,  r.,  rubbing  his  hands. 

Bland.  Ah ! the  rascality  of  that  butcher — seven  ounces  short,  and 
two  large  bones  ; and  they  call  him  honest ; and  he  the  father  of  a fami- 
ly. They  are  all  alike ! 

Louis.  Father  ! 

Bland.  Ah!  You  here? 

Louis.  It  is  half  past  eleven. 

Bland.  Well,  what  if  it  is? 

Louis.  And  at  twelve  M.  Aubertin  is  to  send  for  the  fifty  thousand 
francs  you  promised  to  lend  him. 

Bland.  So  he  is.  I had  forgotten  all  about  it. 

Louis  {astonished).  What ! 

Bland.  And  he  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour.  I had  forgotten. 

Louis.  Fortunately,  father,  since  it  concerned  an  old  friend,  your  heart 
would,  I am  sure,  have  brought  it  to  your  memory. 

Bland.  Oh  ! my  heart.  At  my  age,  my  son,  it  is  not  well  to  trust 
too  much  to  that  organ. 

Louis.  But  I trust  it,  father,  as  I trust  in  you.  {grasping  his  hand) 
Adieu!  [Exit,  l. 

Bland,  {alone).  A mere  child!  I am  sorry  to  see  him  so  romantic. 

1 opening  drawer  and  taking  out  a bundle  of  bills)  There  they  are  !— 
fifty  thousand  francs  in  good  money.  The  bills  are  new.  ( counting ) 
One,  two,  three — It  is  a shame  to  lend  new  bills,  one  always  gets  old 
ones  in  return — six,  seven,  eight — Aubertin  will  never  return  them — 
nine,  ten— He  is  a ruined  man  ; his  ship  is  not  insured— eleven — The 
Americans  have  probably  captured  it.  Let  me  see,  where  was  I?  I must 
begin  again.  One,  two — how  warm  it  is  ; it  is  strange  how  lending  mo- 
ney excites  one — three,  four,  five — In  the  first  place,  I wonder  if  he  has 
a ship  ; he  told  me  so,  but  I have  pever  seen  it — six,  seven — if  this 
Would,  only  save  him,  but  it  will  not  save  him — eight— it  will  all  go  to 
his  creditors — nine — who  will  gobble  it  up — ten  —and  I — eleven — {struck 
with  an  idea)  Ah ! suppose  I consult  Francois?  What  good  would  that 
do?  After  all,  I am  not  bound  to  make  good  the  losses  of  this  man.  I 
have  a wife  and  family,  and  I have  no  right  to  compromise  their  pros- 
pects. No.  it  would  be  wrong,  very  wrong,  {he  hastily  puts  bills  in  his 
pocket)  I will  write  to  him.  After  all.  I am  simply  looking  out  for  my 
own  interests,  {sits  at  table  and  writes)  “ My  dear  friend — An  unfore* 
seen  catastrophe  prevents  my  lending  you  the  fifty  thousand  francs 
which  I promised  you.  I am  more  grieved  than  I can  tell  you.  Believe 
me  your  sincere  friend.”  That’s  tlieway  one  always  winds  up  a refusal. 
{rings.) 

Enter  Joseph,  r. 

Jos.  Did  you  ring,  monsieur? 

Bland.  Take  this  letter  to  its  address,  immediately. 

Jos.  Is  there  any  answer? 

Bland.  No  ; you  need  not  wait. 


BAD  ADVICE. 


3J. 


Jos.  V&vy  well;  monsieur  ; I will  go  at  once.  {Exit,  r. 

Blanu.  [alone).  All ! ah  ! I have  clone  a cruel,  a cowardly  thing— it 
is  wicked  ! ' An  old  friend — [calling)  Joseph  ! [then  thinking  better  of 
it)  Well,  after  ail,  I am  not  sorry  ; it  was  well  done.  So  much  the  better. 
I have  become  a knave — I am  a hardened  rascal,  like  the  others! 

Enter  Joseph,  r.,  crosses  and  goes  up  c.  and  meets  Aubertin,  wh* 
enters  c. 

Jos.  A letter  for  you,  Monsieur  Aubertin. 

Aub.  [to  Joseph).  A letter!  All  right ; give  it  to  me. 

[Joseph  hands  letter  and  exit , c. 

Bland,  [aside).  He! 

Aub.  Ah!  my  friend,  what  joy  ! what  happiness  ! I am  saved! 

Bland.  What? 

Aub.  My  ship,  the  ‘‘Belle  Irma,”  has  arrived  at  Havre. 

Bland.  Ah  ! Bah  ! 

Aub.  She  came  in  this  morning.  I have  just  received  the  news.  A 
magnificent  cargo ! A fortune  ! Congratulate  me. 

Bland.  With  pleasure,  [aside)  The  devil!  my  letter! 

Aub.  I came  to  tell  you  the  good  news,  and  to  say  that  I shall  not 
need  the  fifty  thousand  francs. 

Bland,  [aside).  Oh  ! if  I had  only  known. 

Aub.  But  you  see,  Blandinet — no,  Edmond — [grasping  his  hand)  my 
old  friend. Edmond ! 

Bland,  [hesitating).  Gustave!  my  friend  Gustave! 

Aub.  The  reverses  of  fortune  sometimes  try  us  cruelly,  but  they  have 
their  good  side — they  make  known  to  us  our  true  friends,  [holds  letter 
in  his  rigid  hand , which  he  'places  upon  Blandinet’s  shoulder.) 

Bland.  Yes— my  letter!  frying  to  take  it.) 

Aub.  [withdrawing  his  hand  and  placing  it  on  the  other  shoulder ). 
So,  never,  never — you  hear — shall  I forget  what  you  have  done  for  me. 

Bland,  {trying  to  get  letter).  We  will  not  speak  of  that. 

Aub.  And  our  children — our  dear  children!  May  they  be  happy! 
Louis  asked  me  for  my  daughter’s  hand. 

Bland.  Yes,  I know. 

Aub.  But  you  understand  that  in  the  position  in  which  I found  myself 
— my  ship  perhaps  lost — I was  possibly  ruined — I could  make  him  but 
one  answer — Wait,  my  boy,  as  I do,  and  hope ! 

Bland.  What? 

Aub.  I could  not,  with  a clear  conscience  give  your  son  a penniless 
girl. 

Bland,  [grasping  his  hand).  Ah!  Gustave! 

Aub.  But  to-day  I am  rich — richer  than  you,  perhaps  ; and  I have  the 
honor  to  ask  your  son’s  hand  for  my  daughter. 

Bland.  I am  only  too  happy — certainly,  [forgetting  himself)  Mj 
letter — if  I only  could,  [tries  to  take  it.) 

Aub.  What  are  you  about?  Ah!  your  letter. 

Bland,  [forcing  a smile).  You  don’t  want  it  now.  Give  it  back  tc 
me. 

Aub.  No  ; I want  to  see  wliat  you  have  written. 

Bland.  No,  no! 

Aub.  [opening  letter  and  reading  it).  Ah  ! Great  Heaven ! 

Bland,  [aside).  It  is  all  over!  Wliat  will  he  say? 

Enter  Joseph,  c.  At  Aubertin’s  first  word  he  stops  nnd  listens . 

Aub.  “ An  unforeseen  catastrophe”  ! Ah  ! my  poor  friend*  what  thmtf 
say  is  true  then?  I did  not  dare  to  speak  of  it. 4 


32 


BAD  ADVICE. 


Bland.  What  do  you  mean? 

Aub.  Your  bankers,  Messrs.  Turneps  & Co. 

Bland.  Well? 

Aub.  They  have  fled! 

Bland.  ( staggered ).  Ah!  my  God!  What  did  you  say? 

Aub.  Did  you  not  know  it? 

Bland.  No. 

Aub.  ( showing  letter ).  Why  then 

Bland,  {quickly).  Yes,  yes! — the  catastrophe!  But  where  are  they? 

Aub.  I don’t  know. 

Bland.  But  I had  three  hundred  thousand  francs  in  their  lmJds.  1 
am  ruined ! 

Jos.  {aside).  Ruined ! 

Aub.  Ah  ! my  friend — my  poor  friend— what  a blow  ! You  so  good, 
so  generous!  But  don’t  give  way;  have  courage.  We  shall  meet  again 
soon.  [Exit,  hastily , c. 

Bland,  {seating  himself  at  table).  Well,  he  has  gone.  He  leaves  me 
in  my  hour  of  trouble,  after  the  service  I was  on  the  point  of  rendering 
him.  It  is  well  ; he  will  not  return,  {seeing  Joseph)  There  is  that  fellow 
come  to  ask  for  his  wages.  (Joseph  sobs)  They  are  all  alike.  He  wants 
a recommendation.  (Joseph  sobs  again)  Eli  ! well,  yes,  you  shall  have 
it— you  shall  have  your  money. 

Jos.  {in  broken  voice).  Oh  ! monsieur,  if  you  would  only  keep  me  for 
nothing.  I don’t  eat  much 

Bland,  {astonished).  What!  you  wish  to  serve  me  without  wages? 
You! 

Jos.  {weeping).  I should  feel  so  badly  to  leave  you,  monsieur. 

Bland.  The  fellow  is  really  weeping  ! 

Jos.  {sobbing).  Such  a good  master!  who  last  year,  when  I was  sick, 
went  himself  to  get  me  medicine.  ( weeping ) Oh  ! oh  ! 

Bland,  {struggling  with  his  tears).  Ah!  Joseph,  it  is  a painful  thing 
to  be  ruined.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is- almost  a pleasure,  {both  wipe 
their  eyes. ) 


Enter  Henrietta  and  Louis,  l.,  and  look  at  the  two  weeping. 

Hen.  What!  Tears? 

Jos.  All!  madame,  master  is  ruined! 

Hen.  and  Louis.  Ruined! 

Bland.  What  can  you  expect?  I was  too  confiding— I was  a fool! 

Hen.  My  dear ! 

Louis.  Father! 

Hen.  Ah  ! I understand  now  your  strange  conduct— the  reforms  in 
our  expenses  which  you  wished  to  introduce. 

Jos.  That  was  the  reason  he  pitched  into  the  butcher  so. 

Hen.  I have  diamonds,  laces ; I will  sell  them. 

Bland,  {aside).  She  will  sell  her  diamonds  ! 

Louis.  And  this  morning  you  offered  me  a hundred  francs  a month.  I 
do  not  need  them,  father.  I am  young,  I will  work.  Now  it  is  my  turn 
to  provide  for  you. 

Bland.  Noble  boy ! 

Hen.  My  poor  husband,  we  two  will  see  that  you  never  feel  the  pangs 
of  poverty. 

Jos.  Yes,  we  three  will  ! 

Bland,  {rising  and  drawing  Henrietta  and  Louis’  arms  through 
his).  Oh!  go  on,  go  on  ! If  you  knew  how  happy  you  make  me.  Oh  ! 


BAD  ADVICE. 


83 


family ! One  must  have  faitli  in  that,  and  a little  in  one’s  servants. 
oseph)  Thanks,  Joseph.  I forgive  you. 
s.  Forgive  me  for  what,  monsieur? 

and.  Oh ! nothing— almost  nothing.  Yesterday,  the  sugar,  the 
V»njaJ'y  ; but  we  will  say  no' more  about  it. 

Bpjos.  Yesterday?  Why,  it  was  Monsieur  Albert  who  mixed  a drink. 

Bland.  Ah  ! (aside)  And  I accused  him ! (feels  in  his  pocket  and  takes 
$)kf*  large  number  of  keys)  Take  these,  Joseph.  I thought  I would 
pttfclhem  in  my  pocket;  not  that  I suspected  any  one,  but  to  have  them 
reniired. 

Enter  Mizabran,  c. 

■ 1 1 

Miz.  (greatly  moved).  Ah  ! poor  dear  man ! 

Bland.  What? 

Miz.  I have  just  heard  of  it,  and  I bring  you  two  quarters  on  ac- 
count. (hands  him  bank  notes.) 

Bland.,  Hen.  and  Louis.  What? 

Bland.  All ! Mizabran. 

Miz.  I will  give  you  the  rest  at  the  end  of  the  month. 

Bland.  There  is  no  hurry. 

Miz.  When  you  were  rich  you  could  wait,  but  to-day 

Bland,  (wiping,  his  eyes  with  the  notes).  Ah  ! Mizabran,  you  are  an 
honest  fellow,  (aside)  His  leather  perhaps  is  not  of  the  best  quality,  but 
his  heart— (aloud)  Mizabran,  I want  some  more  boots. 

Miz.  No,  monsieur,  I will  make  yon  do  more. 

Bland.  But,  my  good  fellow—  x 

Miz.  No,  monsieur.  There  is  your  measure,  (tears  it  up.) 

Bland,  (aside).  He  is  sublime ! My  faith  in  bootmakers  is  restored. 

Enter  Francois  and  Albert,  l. 


Fran.  Eh  ? Well,  pretty  things  I hear.  Ruined !— at  your  age.  Well, 
I expected  it.  You  let  yourself  be  taken  in  and  swindled,  like  a fool. 
Albert  (aside).  Poor  uncle  ! 

Bland,  (aside).  And  that  is  how  he  consoles  me!  (goes  up  with  Hen- 
rietta. Louis  makes  him  sit  down.) 

Fran.  You  will  probably  be  involved  in  difficulties— lawsuits,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  I recommend  Albert— he  is  an  advocate. 

Bland.  Thank  you.  (aside)  And  that  is  all  h#e  offers  me. 

Albert.  Papa! 

Fran.  What? 

Albert.  Why,  I am  not  quite  an  advocate. 

Fran.  What! 


Albert.  Because,  the  money  to  pay  for  my  certificate — my  diploma— 
i eat  it. 

Fran  Ah!  If  you  spent  it  for  food  you  did  right.  (aside,  pressing 
Alberts  arm)  Poor  boy!  (aloud)  We  will  dine  together,  (he  sits  down 
Msuncle)  Wntes'  Albert  grasps  Louis’  hand,  and  then  approaches 

Albert  (in  low  tone).  Uncle! 

Bland.  Eh  ? 


wrkim^RT  ^eiaching  diamond  pin).  Take  this — quick,  while  papa  is 
Bland.  A diamond  pin  ! 

you  LBEBT'  Ifc  iS  W°rth  tWeIve  hundred  francs-  11  is  all  I have  to  give 
Bland,  (refusing).  Later,  mv  boy,  if  I need  it.  (aside)  What  a good 


BAD  ADVICE. 


34 

heart  he  has!  And  I refused  to  lend  him  twenty  louis.  Ah  ! nephews 
are  not  so  bad,  after  all ; but  as  for  brothers — there  is  mine,  writing 
tranquilly,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Fran.  ( rising , abruptly  to  Blandinet).  There,  sign  that,  imbecile ! 

Bland.  What  is  it? 

Fran.  Articles  of  copartnership. 

All.  What! 

Bland.  With  jtou? 

Fran.  Yes  ; I suppose  I must  help  you  to  regain  your  fortune  since 
you  have  lost  it. 

Bland,  {throwing  his  arms  around  his  neck).  Ah  ! Francois ! 

Enter  Aubertin  and  Laura,  c. 

Aub.  Come,  do  not  despair.  All  may  yet  be  well. 

Louis  and  Hen.  M.  Aubertin  ! 

Aub.  {taking  paper  from  his  pocket , to  Blandinet).  There,  sign 
that ! 

Bland.  What?  What  is  it?  {taking paper.) 

Aub.  Articles  of  copartnership. 

Bland.  Another ! {embracing  him)  Ah  ! Gustave  ! {aside,  wiping  his 
eyes  with  the  paper)  And  I said  he  would  not  return.  Ah ! one  must 
believe  in  one’s  friends. 

Aub.  Now,  here  is  Laura,  waiting  for  you  to  be  good  enough  to  ask 
her  hand. 

Bland.  Alas ! that  cannot  be.  Louis  is  penniless. 

Aub.  Pardon  me,  he  is  not.  He  has  the  fifty  thousand  francs  you 
wished  to  lend  me. 

Bland,  {quickly).  We  will  not  speak  of  that. 

Aub.  On  the  contrary,  we  will  speak  of  it.  I have  set  that  amount 
aside  for  him. 

Bland,  {aside).  Ah  ! how  good  men  are. 

Laura.  Besides,  I am  rich  enough  for  two;  and  if  necessary  I will 
deprive  myself 

Bland.  Deprive  yourself!  Dear  little  one!  {aside)  Ah!  how  good 
women  are. 

Aub.  And  then  perhaps  your  affairs  may  not  be  so  desperate  as  they 
seem.  M.  Turneps,  your  banker,  has  been  arrested  on  the  Belgian 
frontier. 

Louis.  M.  Turneps? 

Bland.  You  know,  the  three  hundred  thousand  francs. 

Louis.  But  they  are  not  in  his  hands.  Having  your  power  of  attorney 
I withdrew  them  day  before  yesterday.  They  are  now  in  the  Bank  of 
France. 

All.  Ah  ! 

Bland.  Is  it  possible?  I am— I am  rich!  Mizabrun,  I return  your 
two  quarters,  {handing  money.) 

Miz.  There  is  no  hurry,  Monsieur  Blandinet — to-morrow. 

Bland,  {to  Joseph).  Joseph,  I double  your  wages!  {to  his  wife)  You 
shall  have  some  new  diamonds  ! {to  Louis)  I will  give  you  a house ! 

Aub.  Well,  you  are  content? 

Bland.  Oh,  yes — that  is  to  say,  no  ! 

Aub.  Why  not? 

Bland.  Why  not?  Because  I have  done  something — Oh!  how  can  I 
ever  tell  you  what  I have  done?  Oh  ! Gustave!  my  old  friend  Gustave, 
I have  been  a wretch,  a miserable  fool ! I suspected  my  wife,  my  boot- 
maker, an  angel 


BAD  ADVICE, 


ft* 

Miz.  (advancing).  Oh  ! monsieur. 

Bland.  Not  you — my  wife — and  Brebaut 

Fran.  By  the  way,  now  that  I come  to  think  of  it,  I did  have  shrimps. 

Bland.  Finally,  I became  suspicious  of  everybody  and  everything,  (to 
Laura)  I no  longer  believed  in  our  little  birds ! 

Laura.  Oh ! how  unhappy  you  must  have  been. 

Bland.  Oh ! yes  ; but  that  is  all  over  now  ; so  let  any  one  ask  a favor 
of  me — a loan  of  money — and  you  will  see 

Fran,  (quickly).  Hush!  Albert! 

Bland.  It  was  for  him  that  I said  that.  He  is  a noble  fellow.  You 
see,  my  children,  I have  reflected.  I know  the  world  now— I have  known 
it  for— five  minutes.  Well,  suppose  that  there  are  men  in  it  who  are 
not  absolutely  perfect — that,  mind  you,  is  merely  a supposition — to  be 
happy  one  must  know  how  to  do  two  things 

Fran.  To  keep  his  eyes  open  and  his  doors  locked. 

Bland.  No.  To  shut  his  eyes  and  open  his  hands. 

CURTAIN. 


SYNOPSIS  OF  THE  PLAY. 

This  charming  play  is  an  adaptation  of  “ Petits  Oiseaux,”  by  Eugene  Labiche. 
Edmond  Blandinet,  a tender-hearted  old  gentleman,  whose  ear  and  purse  are  always 
open  to  the  suffering,  lives  in  a happy  home  with  his  wife  (his  second)  and  his  son 
Louis.  His  brother  Francois  arrives  upon  the  scene,  and,  being  the  exact  opposite 
of  Edmond  in  character,  is  disgusted  at  the  manner  in  which  his  brother  is  ever 
ready  to  respond  to  the  calls  of  those  whom  he  declares  to  be  s^pndlers.  He  suc- 
ceeds in  proving  that  the  writer  of  a piteous  appeal  for  aid  is  nothing  but  a fraud, 
and  then  so  works  upon  Edmond’s  feelings,  that  the  poor  man  comes  to  distrust  and 
be  suspicious  of  every  one— his  friends,  his  son,  and  even  his  wife.  His  eyes  are 
finally  opened,  when,  believing  himself  to  be  ruined,  he  finds  those  whom  he  has 
suspected  the  first  to  come  to  his  assistance.  Louis  and  Albert,  sons  of  the  two 
Blandinet  brothers,  are  capital  characters;  and  the  change  which  comes  over  Fran- 
cois when  he  finds  that  his  son,  to  whom  he  has  refused  to  send  money,  has  been 
arrested  for  debt,  is  truly  pathetic.  The  parts  of  Henrietta  and  Laura  are  both 
good,  and  those  of  Mizabran  and  the  faithful  old  servant  Joseph  afford  scope  for 
capital  acting.  The  play  appeals  to  the  best  feelings  of  tl^  heart,  and  was  pro- 
nounced a success  on  the  French  stage.  It  is  an  admirable  PLae  for  amateurs. 


5 A Cxreat  J?lay. 

I BAD  ADVICE: 

CM 

H OR, 

PAIR  OF  SPECTACLE^ 

A COMEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS. 

Adapted  from  “ Les  Petits  Oiseaux”  of  MM. 'Eugene  Labit 
and  Delacour. 

By  HORACE  W.  FULLER. 

PRICE  13  CENTS. 

Eight  male,  three  female  characters.  Scenery,  a handsotru 
furnished  drawing-room,  and  a room  furnished  as  a library  or  offi 
Time  of  playing,  about  two  hours.  Costumes  of  the  present  day. 


1 his  play  has  made  a tremendous  hit  in  both  London  and  Pari 
and  in  New  York  an  adaptation,  called  “ A Pair  of  Spectacles,” 
being  played  nightly,  to  crowded  houses,  at  the  Madison  Squa 
Theatre.  It  <c  also  being  played  in  this  country  under  the  name 
“Goggles.”  It  is  an  admirable  play  for  amateurs,  as  it  is  easi 
arranged,  and  requires  no  difficult  scenery. 

Mr.  Clement  Scott,  the  eminent  English  dramatic  critic,  speakir 
of  the  phenomenal  success  of  “ A Pair  of  Spectacles”  at  the  Lond 
Garrick  Theatre,  says:  “Here  is  a sensitively  delicate  work,  simp 
almost  to  a fault,  nearly  wholly  destitute  of  what  is  called  ‘ fern  a 
interest’ — a study  of  character  pure  and  simple,  and  yet  so  hum 
is  it,  so  refreshii  J ,o  popular  with  young  as  well  as  old,  that  we  he; 
of  people  going  to  see  it  again  and  again,  the  enjoyment  seemir. 
greater  the  kst  time  than  the  first.  One  thing  is  quite  certain, 
taste  for  genuine  comedy  is  not  dead,  and  such  finely-chiselsd  wo 
as  is  given  hare,  is  as  much  appreciated  as  ever.” 

The  New  York  Tribune,  speaking  of  the  the  piece  at  the  Mad 
son  Square  Theatre,  says : “ One  of  the  best  productions  that  I 
been  given  to  the  stage  within  the  last  thirty  years — a play  that  plea, 
and  refreshes  you  while  it  is  passing  before  you,  and  leaves  you  6ett 
and  happier  for  having  seen  it.” 


Single  copies  sent  no-*  to  anv  address,  on  receipt  of  price. 


